Looking for Eden
by cnroth
Summary: (Far From Their Bones trilogy, Part III) They know Voyager was brought to the Delta Quadrant for a reason. They know the Prophets want their help to defeat the Borg. Still, what they want most is to go home. When a series of dreams reveal to Talia just how important their involvement truly is, it becomes clear that simply getting Voyager home will ultimately damn them all.
1. Learn to Let Go

**Learn to Let Go**

 _Edited for sexual content. M-rated version on ._

* * *

 **2404**

" _The time is 0600_."

The computerized female Cardassian voice repeated itself on loop until Harry called out to silence it. I blinked against the station's artificial atmosphere and looked at the shadowy outlines of furniture in our darkened quarters. Hearing Harry's intake of breath, I squeezed my eyes shut in preparation for his command to activate the lights.

Instead, he rolled on top of me and kissed me thoroughly.

His straight grey-and-black hair hung down to shoulder length, loosed from the topknot in which he had worn it over the past few years. The ends tickled my collarbone as he painted kisses across my chest.

I groaned at the contact of his lips and arched into it despite my protest. "You're going to be late for duty, Captain."

He slid his hands under the hem of my shirt. "I don't care."

Thirty-one years of marriage had not quelled my desire for that man in the least. If anything, time had made us stronger. We had both changed, and we'd endured stresses that should have torn us apart many times over, yet we survived together.

"Yes you do," I murmured.

He peeled the shirt over my head, tossed it aside, and looked down at me with dark eyes. "You're right. I do. But I always have time for you."

"Such a romantic," I teased, pulling his hips flush with mine.

"One of us has to be," he murmured. "Otherwise, you'd never slow down."

" _You_ started this one, sir. You can't blame it all on me."

He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, running his tongue along it before licking into my mouth. When he broke the kiss, he admitted, "I wanted to be with you one more time before I go."

Sliding my hands up his back, I tucked his hair behind one ear and smiled. "Then let me feel you, _ja'lat_. We can go as slow as you want."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 **2375**

I was practically panting when I woke up. Flicking my eyes around the dark room, I reassured myself that I was, indeed, in my quarters on _Voyager_. Just as with the last one, Alixia's vision felt so real while I was in it.

The sound of Harry's deep breathing filtered into my consciousness, grounding me back in the present. We were side-by-side in bed, and he was still fast asleep. I smiled to myself. Someday, we'd be happy again. Truly happy.

Turning onto my side, I slid an arm around his strong body and spooned myself against him.

The pace of his breathing changed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I said as I pressed my lips to the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to wake you."

He laced his fingers with mine. "I don't mind. Are you okay?"

I hummed in affirmation as I pulled him even closer, then explained, "I was just having the most wonderful dream. About us."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm." I trailed more kisses along the skin exposed by his undershirt, smiling when his breath quickened in response. "We were us again. Happy." I slipped my hand from his and under the hem of his shirt, fingertips skating across his stomach. "Making love early in the morning when we should have been getting ready for duty shifts."

His muscles tightened when I played over ticklish spots, and he sucked in a breath.

I was treading dangerous ground, enticing him in a way I'd been too sick and afraid to do in so long. But I wanted to touch him. To recapture that dream.

To stop missing him even when he was right there with me.

"I like the sound of that," he murmured.

"Yeah?"

Shifting onto his other side, he gave me the same bright smile that I had fallen so hard for after just a year working on _Voyager_ together. It was just as irresistible as it had been the night he asked me to dinner—the night he first kissed me.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, I was thinking, once we make the jump with the transwarp coils, we'll have a good shot at convincing Captain Janeway to give us some shore leave. And if my calculations are correct, we should end up pretty close to one of the nicer Zahl colonies along the Turei Communications Network. It might be an ideal time for a second honeymoon."

A chance to get away from _Voyager_ , to put some distance between myself, Tom, and all of the things that still reminded me of the insurmountable losses we'd suffered in recent months. A chance to hit the reset button with Harry and rebuild our marriage.

I smiled, grabbed his face, and kissed him. "I love it."

He stroked my cheek. "I love _you_."

I shook my head. "You shouldn't."

"Yes," he said firmly, "I should."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered, "I love you, too."

He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, then gave a coy smile. "Now about that dream."

I laughed, though I couldn't stop the hint of anxiety lacing it.

There was nothing to be afraid of, yet my mind had knotted Harry's love and Rojel's death together in a way that was hard to untangle. It wasn't outright fear anymore that having sex with Harry would lead to another pregnancy and another loss. With my sense of reality restored, it was easier to argue back against that untruth.

Now, the problem was purely in the realm of emotion. Our rhythm had been broken, the notes of our song coming out choppy and discordant because I was still inexplicably scared to open myself up to him again.

But, oh, that dream...

Harry tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "We don't have to do anything if you're not ready."

I bit my lip, sliding my hand up his stomach and chest. I wanted to see his skin—to smell it and taste it. The dream played out before my mind's eye, growing both my desire and my fear.

I wanted that—wanted him. Tonight, the desire outweighed the fear.

"I'm ready," I whispered.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I'm sure." His skin was warm and pliant beneath my touch as I felt my way back down to his hips and ran my fingers over the band of his boxers. "I miss you."

His thumb traced my lips. "I miss you, too."

Still, he didn't move in. Maybe he was scared, too.

But the more I entertained the thought of making love to him, the more sure I became that it was exactly what I wanted tonight. So I kissed his thumb. Then his hand. And then his lips. I rolled him onto his back, worked his shirt off, and covered his chest with kisses.

Slowly, we rediscovered each another one centimeter of skin at a time. After a while, the fear and hesitation faded away. We gained more confidence, found more trust. Grew more brave.

And when I finally accepted his body into mine, it wasn't scary at all. It was natural. Right.

The safest place I could possibly be.

* * *

Personal Log: Stardate 52773.6

Reading through Annika's logs nearly crushed me. I got through it, wrote my report for her record, and found the information B'Elanna had been hinting after. We installed a transwarp coil on each ship and traveled nearly twenty thousand lightyears—fifteen Earth-years closer to home.

After that, I submitted a request for shore leave to the captain, explaining that Harry and I needed time away from _Voyager_ to heal and learn to be together again.

Harry was right. Given what we accomplished with the transwarp flight, Janeway didn't put up a fight. In fact, she heartily supported it. With her blessing, Harry and I disappeared on a friendly planet for two weeks where we could talk, laugh, grieve, and love without the stresses of duty or the threat of danger constantly wearing us down.

This morning when we returned to _Voyager_ , we were greeted by Elentia and Sinta, who arrived yesterday from the Krenim Commonwealth. Elentia is here on important business of some sort, though I won't find out what it is until I meet with her and Captain Janeway later. Undoubtedly, it has something to do with the Commonwealth's recent conflict with the Borg.

Which means that shore leave is definitely over.

* * *

When I walked into the briefing room, Elentia and her aide were already present along with Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Captain Ransom, and Lieutenant Commander Burke. Two extra chairs had been situated at the far end of the table.

"Who else is coming?" I asked as I made my way to the open seat beside Tuvok.

"Settle in, Commander," Janeway said. "It's going to be an interesting meeting." She turned to Elentia. "Minister?"

"Thank you, Captain," Elentia replied, dipping her head. "As you all know, several weeks ago—your time—the Borg sent a scout ship through the blue nebula and into Krenim space. Although the vessel was ultimately destroyed, we have reason to believe the collective gained more than just intelligence. We believe the individuals who were assimilated during the incursion have also survived and are now a part of the Borg Collective."

"How can that be possible," Ransom asked, "if the vessel was lost with all hands and there were no other Borg ships close enough to transport to?"

Elentia nodded. "Allow me to introduce you to the newest allies of the Commonwealth's effort against the Borg."

At Janeway's command, the tertiary door slid open. I could hardly believe my eyes when Mike Ayala entered, escorting two people I truly believed that I would never see again.

"Dr. Riley Frazier," Elentia said, "and Orum tr'Khevek of the Unity One Cooperative."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Janeway said to Mike, dismissing him from the room.

"Ma'am," he answered with a nod before exiting the way he came.

Janeway gestured to the two open seats. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Captain," Riley said as she and Orum sat down.

They looked just as they had when I last saw them. Riley's blonde wig and elbow-length sleeves covered up any evidence of cybernetic implants still in her body, but Orum couldn't hide his past so easily. The dark ocular implant in his right eye socket made it clear to Ransom and Burke that he and Riley were former Borg drones.

A barely-there southern drawl made Riley's voice slide off her tongue like honey from a down-turned spoon. "It's good to see you again, Commander Chakotay, Commander Eelo."

Chakotay grunted, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

"And it's good to meet you, Captain Ransom and Commander Burke. _Equinox_ and _Voyager_ are lucky to have found each other."

"Yes," Ransom said. "I've read about your community in _Voyager's_ logs, but I can't say I had expected to meet you in person. The Nekrit Expanse is a long way from here."

"It is," Riley agreed, "but our new friends thought it was important to bring us through the underspace network so that we could meet in person."

"To tell us what, exactly?" Chakotay asked.

"As you know, I was assimilated at Wolf 359 by a Borg vessel sent to scout Earth. You also know that vessel was destroyed. The reason I am here today is because the Borg possess a type of transporter technology that I think has become very important for you all to know about—technology that is almost always used to send captured individuals of interest across thousands of lightyears so they can be integrated into the collective by the nearest queen."

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better and closed it. How had I never known about that? It had struck me as strange to find two former Borg who had been assimilated at Wolf 359, but I'd never thought to ask or to search for an answer when I was linked to them back in her cooperative.

"What is the range of this technology?" Tuvok asked.

"In the collective, it's essentially limitless. It sidesteps the matter-conversion process altogether and records it like data down to the quantum level. Then it transmits that data to a receiver where the matter is reproduced on the other side."

"The Augier Method?" Burke's dark eyebrows halfway up his forehead. "That's ridiculous. By the twenty-first century, Terran scientists knew that was nothing more than science fiction."

Riley shook her head. "Not for the Borg. As long as there's a neuroelectric signal, there's a way to transmit biological data through subspace as easily as they transmit thoughts through the hive mind. It's how I'm alive, and it's why I believe the Borg now have drones from the Hirogen, B'omar, and various Commonwealth species. Anything those people knew is now known to the entire Borg Collective."

"Our involvement in bringing down Annorax and his weapon," I said, giving Elentia a concerned look. "The existence of the Srivani and their cloaking technology—"

" _Equinox_ ," Ransom interjected, "and our cloaking technology."

"Minister," Tuvok said, "were any of the Krenim casualties aware of how Krenim temporal technology works?"

Elentia nodded. "Chroniton torpedoes and shields. Queen Nessav has been careful to protect any individuals from the old regime who still know anything more dangerous than that, but considering how widespread the chroniton-based weaponry was, there was simply no way to protect that indefinitely."

"No one is passing blame here, Minister," Janeway reassured her. "But we need to know what they know."

"That's the worst of it," Elentia said, "but I have an itemized list that outlines all possible gains the Borg made."

"There is something else," Orum said. Given his silence up until that point, it was a small shock to hear him speak. "After Captain Janeway granted Riley and I limited access to _Voyager's_ mission logs, I reviewed your heist on the Borg sphere. I can't say with absolute certainty that this is the case, but I feel obligated to tell you—" He paused, glancing nervously around the table.

"Go on, Mister Khevek," Janeway prodded.

"Please, Captain, call me Orum."

She smiled slightly and inclined her head. "Alright, Orum. What is it that you found?"

"When your operations officer lost Crewman Hansen's biosignature, it was believed that she had integrated herself with the vessel as drones often do. While I agree that is what happened, I do not believe she was on that vessel when it self-destructed."

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped down my back. "What?"

"You think she transported to another Borg ship?" Chakotay asked.

"I do not know for certain," he said, "but I can tell you what I know. In the collective, I was a medical drone. I know what bioscanners see when a drone enters an alcove and integrates with the ship, and I know what it looks like when a body is transmitted through the Borg network. Based on the readings I saw in your ship's log, that's what it looked like."

For a moment, no one said a word.

After letting out a deep breath, Janeway broke the silence. "If she did utilize this transportation technology, is there a way to track where she might have gone?"

"Not at this juncture, Captain. I apologize."

"But at least now you know it's possible she's out there," Riley added, "and you can keep your ears open for any news. For our part, we'll let you know if we hear anything from our work with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion."

"If she's out there," Chakotay said, giving Janeway a sympathetic look, "that's where she'd be."

Janeway nodded. "We'd appreciate anything you can tell us, Dr. Frazier."

"Of course, Captain."

Janeway looked to Elentia. "Was there something else?"

"There is." Elentia nodded to her aide, who stood and exited the room along with Orum. A moment later, they returned carrying a medium-sized metal box between them and set it on the table.

"What is it?" Chakotay asked.

Riley looked at me when she answered, "The Orb of Peace."

Tuvok spoke next. "Are you saying that this case contains the artifact created by the Prophet who inhabited Lieutenant Commander Eelo at the time of our last meeting?"

"Yes, Commander, it is."

As I stared at the box, a dreadful sense of destiny wrapped itself around my _pagh_. I licked my lips and took a shaky breath. "W-why did you bring this?"

"The Prophet told us to. He said that we had accomplished what he wanted to help us accomplish—unifying our community and finding peaceful solutions to our conflicts—and now it's time he returned to you."

"I'm sorry," Captain Janeway interjected. " _He_?"

Riley's voice sounded a bit sheepish. "Well, the Prophet presented himself to us as a Terran man. Is it disrespectful to refer to a Prophet using gendered pronouns?"

"No," I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the box. "Captain Janeway was probably confused because I referred to the Prophet in feminine terms, as that's the default pronoun in most Bajoran dialects. As far as we know, Prophets have no gender."

"I see," Riley said softly. "Well, I can't tell you how much the Prophet has done for us. I honestly didn't think we had any hope for survival, let alone peace, beyond reactivating the link, but he—they—proved us wrong."

There was a pause. I could sense the eyes of the room on me, as if everyone was waiting for me to speak, but I said nothing.

"Well," Janeway finally said, "I'm glad to hear that, Dr. Frazier. Thank you for coming. I'm sure we'll be in contact."

I was vaguely aware of Riley and Orum being escorted from the room, Ransom and Burke seeing themselves out, and Captain Janeway sending Chakotay to show Elentia to her guest quarters. There was a brief muttered conversation between Tuvok and Janeway before the doors swished open and closed again.

Then, Tuvok's voice. "Might I suggest moving the orb to a different location, Commander?"

"I'm not keeping it in my quarters."

"That was not going to be my suggestion."

"Then where?"

"Mine."

Taking a breath, I finally managed to break whatever spell the wretched thing had cast on me and turned towards Tuvok. "If that's what you want, have at it."

"I did not make the suggestion for my own sake, but for yours. I sense a great deal of distress in you regarding the orb. Your psychological health need not be burdened by the weight of its presence in your quarters. It will not disrupt my life as it would yours."

His words seemed to reverberate in my chest. "You... you _sense_ my distress?"

"That is correct. However, this is not the time, nor the place, to explain how such sense is possible. Suffice it to say that I believe we will all be better served by storing the artifact elsewhere for the time being. Are you amenable to my offer?"

I took a moment to examine his dark eyes, looking for the promise—the reassurance—in them. It was there, just as I expected. A strange sense of calm slipped beneath the dark roots around my _pagh_ , relaxing the stranglehold of dread just enough for me to breathe again. "Okay. Your quarters." I let out a slow, intentional breath and nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

 **2404**

When I opened the eyes of my _pagh_ , and saw that Cardassian space station once more, I wondered if Alixia thought I needed a reminder of where the dreams had left off.

Not that I minded reliving this one.

Harry's straight grey-and-black hair hung down to shoulder length, loosed from the topknot in which he had worn it over the past few years. The ends tickled my collarbone as he painted kisses across my chest.

I groaned at the contact of his lips and arched into it despite my protest. "You're going to be late for duty, Captain."

He slid his hands under the hem of my shirt. "I don't care."

"Yes you do," I murmured.

He peeled the shirt over my head, tossed it aside, and looked down at me with dark eyes. "You're right. I do. But I always have time for you."

"Such a romantic," I teased, pulling his hips flush with mine.

"One of us has to be," he murmured. "Otherwise, you'd never slow down."

" _You_ started this one, sir. You can't blame it all on me."

He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, running his tongue along it before licking into my mouth. When he broke the kiss, he admitted, "I wanted to be with you one more time before I go."

Sliding my hands up his back, I tucked his hair behind one ear and smiled. "Then let me feel you, _ja'lat_. We can go as slow as you want."

"Yes, ma'am."

The last time I had dreamed this dream, all I'd been aware of was the passion swelling between us as we fused our bodies into one. This time, a wholly different layer of truth existed within our union.

The impending approach of death.

A few light-years away from the station where we lived and where I worked, there was a barrier separating the Federation from the Borg. Although the barrier had held for nearly two decades, there was always a possibility that the Borg would find a way to adapt their weapons and break through.

And when they did, Harry's ship would be on the frontline.

He didn't have to say anything out loud, and neither did I. After so many years together, we knew exactly what was being communicated in the love we made that morning. So we rocked and kissed and clung tightly to sweat-soaked skin, speaking a language that reached far deeper than our words ever could.

This was how we said good-bye.


	2. Secrets are a Prison

**Secrets are a Prison**

 _CW: Discussion of past pregnancy loss_

* * *

 **2375**

"So, I hear I should call you Dr. ch'Tannah now," I said to Sinta, Elentia's brother, as we sat down for our first session since the Krenim Rebellion two years prior. It felt incredibly strange to be a patient in my own office, sinking into the couch cushion with someone else in my wingback chair.

Sinta chuckled, amber eyes sparkling just like his sister's. "Yes, I've achieved the next milestone in my quest to become an elitist intellectual. But I still want you to call me Sinta, as always."

"It's a big deal." I smiled, trying my best to hide the fact that I was delaying the inevitable. As if I could fool an empath. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, dipping his head. Strands of black hair fell from his low ponytail, swishing against the side of his tawny-beige face as he straightened. He didn't seem to mind them. "Let us begin with some simpler questions before we get into the more difficult areas. Alright?"

I took a deep breath and nodded.

* * *

Personal Log: Stardate 52776.4

My first session with Sinta was strange on so many levels—being a patient in my own office, being assessed by someone other than Schmullis, being asked about my mental health problems in the past several months, and being unable to hide my feelings.

I haven't had any psychotic symptoms since my neurosynaptic therapy ended, but Sinta did notice some symptoms of trauma from... well... everything. Unfortunately, we have a very limited time frame in which to work, but he thinks we can put it to good use.

Riley and Orum will be leaving on their transport in an hour to go back to the colony, but Elentia and Sinta are staying here until we reach the next Zahl station along the comm net. It'll give Elentia a break from her work and Sinta a chance to work with me.

* * *

After seeing Riley and Orum off, I went straight back to my office for a meeting with Megan Delaney. I beat her there, but only barely, and soon we were settled in the seating area.

"Meg," I said gently, "I wanted to let you know about something we learned just yesterday. For now, only the senior staff of _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ know, but I spoke with Captain Janeway about bringing you in the loop and she approved. I need your word that what I'm about to tell you will not be discussed with anyone outside of senior staff—not even your sister."

Her hazel eyes reflected the dread she must have felt. Only one subject could have led me to take this course of action.

Annika.

Megan nodded, silky brown waves of hair swishing freely around blue-clad shoulders. "I understand. You have my word."

I took a breath. "Yesterday, we got a visit from Dr. Riley Frazier and Orum tr'Khevek from the former-Borg cooperative that Chakotay and I met in the Nekrit Expanse. They've recently allied with the Krenim Commonwealth and are preparing to work with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion against the collective."

Megan's eyes never left mine as she followed my every word.

"Riley and Orum told us about a piece of Borg technology that can teleport people across great distances—tens of thousands of lightyears or more if the conditions are right—which the Borg generally use to send captured individuals to a centralized location. This way, they won't be lost if a ship is destroyed before those victims can be integrated into the hive mind."

I paused to take a deep breath. "Meg, Orum thinks there's a good possibility that Annika teleported herself off the sphere before it self-destructed. He didn't want to get our hopes up, but he reviewed Harry's sensor readings from the _Equinox_ and said that's what it looked like to him."

Her eyes filled with tears. She dipped her head and dabbed at her face with the sleeve of her uniform. "How likely?"

"After he showed us what to look for, we ran a dozen simulations. It looks pretty likely. We calculated 87.6% odds that she was not on board when it blew."

Megan nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Of course she wasn't," she whispered.

I leaned forward. "Do you know something? Did she say anything to you indicating her plans that day?"

Megan shook her head. "No, nothing. But I—" She huffed a laugh. "I should have known she had an escape planned."

"What makes you say that?"

"If Annika is anything, she's efficient. It's not that I think she wouldn't sacrifice herself for us, because she would. But why waste life if there's no need to? If she had an out, I have no doubt that she would have taken it. As committed as she was to seeing this Unimatrix Zero thing through, I have no doubt that's where she is. It's where she belongs." A tear escaped Megan's eye, sneaking down the slope of her cheek and disappearing under her chin. "I only wish I could have gone with her."

* * *

At Tuvok's request, I met with him in his quarters immediately after my shift. He wanted to explain his strange comment from the day before.

I sat on his couch, warming my hands around a cup of Vulcan spice tea.

"I must warn you," he said as he took a chair across from me, "my explanation requires bringing up a difficult topic."

"It has to do with the mind melds on the gravity-well planet, doesn't it?"

He inclined his head. "It does, indeed. If our conversation becomes too overwhelming for you, we can continue at a later date. However, I believe it is better for you to understand sooner, rather than later."

"If our conversation overwhelms me, will you know? Without me telling you?"

"Yes."

Another person from whom I could no longer hide my inner life. Wonderful. "How?"

"Do you recall the circumstances surrounding our first mind meld?"

I looked away, fighting the swell of emotions at his question. My throat was so tight I could barely produce sound. "I remember enough."

"Do you recall the meld itself?"

I glared at him. "Do you sense overwhelm yet?"

He ticked an eyebrow. "No I do not."

He was really going to make me do this, wasn't he? "I remember the stream, the sun, the woods..." I swallowed a sob that tried to crawl up my throat. "The sparrow." Tears filled my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks, and I wiped them away. "I remember almost drowning, and a man singing a Vulcan lullaby. I suppose that was you."

Tuvok nodded.

"I thought—" I closed my eyes, the pressure becoming too much. "I thought I _was_ you for a moment. I couldn't sort my identity out. And then I almost drowned, but the voice— _your_ voice—drew me out again. Gave me strength to... to let Rojel go."

It almost felt as if Tuvok was holding my hand, but we weren't even close to touching.

"The second mind meld," he prodded. "What can you recall of it?"

I opened my eyes. "Personally, not much. Tom said I was nearly catatonic and half starved to death. He said he had to beg you to perform the second meld, though given how he was at that point, I suspect he might have exaggerated that bit. He, uh—" I glanced down at the liquid in my cup. "He didn't know how much it would cost you. If I'd been able to stop him—"

"Had you been capable of interfering, the meld would not have been necessary."

My chest ached with the weight of my failure. I tightened my grip on the cup, my hands beginning to tremble. "Still, I should have tried. I shouldn't have let him... let you—"

"Miss Eelo," Tuvok said, drawing my attention back to him.

Though his dark eyes remained stoic beneath those sharply angled eyebrows, I could feel his compassion warming up my _pagh_. As I watched his face, I realized that it was intentional. He was feeding me that sensation, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in it.

Slowly, it grew stronger. I closed my eyes, allowing it to calm all of my anxieties. The teacup was lifted from my hands. If I had let myself lie down, I could have slept.

Then came the lullaby, strong and sweet and flawless in its meter. It was soothing in a way I couldn't begin to fathom, filling the cracks in my _pagh_ to keep it from shattering inside me.

It was a mere taste of what he had done for me with both mind melds.

Just as slowly as Tuvok had built up the feeling, he drew it back again. When I opened my eyes, I could see the compassion lingering in his own despite his expression remaining essentially the same as it had been before.

I took a breath. "You can do more than just sense my emotions."

"Indeed. After you went into labor for the second time, you entered cardiac arrest. Mister Paris did all he could to address the physiological issues at hand, but it was not enough. He believed that my intervention was psychological when, in fact, it was spiritual."

My eyes widened as the realization hit me, carried on a memory from my class in Vulcan psychology. "A _katra_ transfer."

Tuvok took a drink of his tea and and set the cup on the table. "What I did was more of a transfusion than a transfer. I merely shared a part of my katra with you rather than the whole of it. Even so, it created a strong telepathic bond between us. At any time when you feel an emotion strongly, you involuntarily project it into me, as well."

"Oh," I breathed. "Tuvok, I'm sorry. That must be exhausting."

"Indeed, it is taxing. It is not, however, your fault. I knew before I acted that I could not burden you with this knowledge until you had an opportunity to recover, psychologically and spiritually, from the ordeal, and I was fully aware of the possibility that you might never recover. Now that you have, it is important, for your sake and my own, that I teach you how to control it. Otherwise, conditions that inevitably befall me will have a strong impact on you."

 _Pon farr_. The slow deterioration of his neurological state and, with that, his cognitive and emotional control. Yes, this was serious. "How much would those conditions effect me?"

"It is hard to say. There is no record of a katra bond being created with a Bajoran before, and the few records on bonds or transfers done with Terrans are either classified or protected by confidentiality rights."

I sipped my tea. "So we'll be figuring this out as we go."

"Indeed. However, there are precautions we can take to reduce the risk of harm to you and alleviate the burden on me."

"What precautious?"

"I will teach you how to use inward restraint so that you will be capable of choosing that which you wish to communicate with me, and ignoring that which I may not intend to communicate with you."

I nodded. "That sounds wise. I'm in."

"I am pleased to hear that. We should begin our work immediately. I suggest a mind meld."

I nearly choked on my tea before meeting his gaze. "Tonight?"

"I do not sense emotional overwhelm within you, so I see no reason for delay. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

I couldn't let him into my mind that deeply, not yet. Not with Alixia only just beginning to show me glimpses of the destiny we were trying to change. As my mind scrambled for an excuse, I couldn't help but glance at the box containing the orb, dark and quiet on a small table in the corner of the room. Looking back at Tuvok, I finally said, "I'm having dinner with Harry."

Tuvok didn't hide his displeasure, pressing his lips into a thin line. He studied me for a moment, and I knew he was suspicious of my excuse.

Could he sense avoidance, too?

After a moment, he nodded. "Very well. Taking Lieutenant Kim's schedule into account, the most ideal night to meet will be four days from now. Is that agreeable to you?"

It would give me time to process everything, time for Alixia to show me what I needed to know, and perhaps time enough to make my own small attempts at learning to control this _katra_ -connection on my own. I forced my feelings down and nodded. "Yes, that will be fine."

* * *

 **2404**

After Harry departed with his ship to monitor the barrier, I made my way from the habitat ring to Deep Space Nine's massive sickbay. As always, the station's Chief Medical Officer was already hard at work.

Dr. Julian Bashir was the poster-boy for overachievement—always working and rarely going out. I'd been told he was a different person before the cold war with the Borg, that the years since had been even harder on him than the Federation-Dominion war had been. Yet in his better moments, he possessed an unmatched level of charm and wit. He was the kind of person everyone wanted to hate but couldn't help loving anyway.

Julian was stooped over a microviewer when I arrived, and all I could see was dark-brown hair streaked with an increasing number of grays. He'd stopped coloring it after getting divorced more than a year before, and I had to admit that I liked it better with the gray.

"Good morning," I said in a sing-song voice, snagging the chair at his station.

"You're in a cheery mood," he mumbled, a thick British accent making his irritation sound almost jaunty.

I shrugged. "You'd be, too, if you'd come out to the promenade with Harry and me sometime."

He huffed and adjusted his instrument. "When is Admiral Janeway's transport supposed to arrive?"

"Within the hour."

"So, you're just here to kill time until then."

"Not entirely," I said, dragging my finger along the tabletop in circular patterns. "I also wanted to know what you were working on."

"You'll find out soon enough."

I groaned. "I'm just as important to this research as you are. I'm the leading psychologist in this field. I think I have the right to know what you know."

"You'll find out soon enough, Miss Eelo," he reiterated.

"It's _Doctor_ Eelo," I muttered, "you _juk'soraya yev_."

Julian couldn't help but laugh. "You know, you fall for it every time I call you that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

A wide grin lit up his features as he looked up from the microviewer, bringing life back to his green eyes and gathering wrinkles in his olive-toned skin. "And every time, it cheers me up. So, thank you."

I gave him a slight smile. "You're welcome."

"Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot to do before Admiral Janeway's visit."

"I can help."

Julian signed. "We've been through this already."

"Fine," I grumbled, twisting the chair one way and the other. "Then maybe I have a job for you."

His eyebrows twitched. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"To entertain me."

He chuckled and shook his head. "That big, genetically-enhanced brain of yours and all you can think of is entertainment."

I shrugged. "I'm a simple person."

"Well, as much as I enjoy wasting both our talents on being your entertainment—" he gestured towards the microviewer— "I believe this takes priority."

"Overachiever."

"You'd better believe it."

Just then, a two-toned notification sounded, alerting us to an incoming comm. "Ops to Commander Eelo," came the voice of Fleet Admiral Kira Nerys.

"Speaking of Bajorans with foul mouths," Julian muttered, returning to the microviewer.

I laughed and tapped my combadge. "Eelo here, Admiral."

"Admiral Janeway's transport has just arrived. Please meet her at landing pad E."

"On my way."

I gave Julian's shoulder a squeeze before leaving him to his work.


	3. Defy Destiny

**Defy Destiny**

* * *

 **2404**

"Kathryn," I said as my former captain stepped into my offered embrace.

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed firmly. "It's so good to see you, Talia." Releasing the hold, she stepped back to look me over. Straight white hair bobbed around her chin and made her blue eyes look even sharper than they did when we were on _Voyager_ together. "How long has it been?"

I smiled. "Too long."

"It always seems to be."

Just then, a familiar face stepped out of the runabout and walked up to us. I gasped, my smile widening until it threatened to split my face. "Miral!"

She, too, gave me a tight hug. "Hey, _Yani."_

It was my turn to step back and look her over. With short dark-brown hair, olive skin, and ridges arching across her forehead, she looked so much like B'Elanna had when I first met her. Yet something about the way her facial features were mapped spoke more of Tom.

I smiled. "If we'd known you were coming, I'm sure B'Elanna would have found a way to come home early. She's still on Qo'noS for the next few days."

"I know. I talked to her last night. But I'm not here for leave. I'm on duty."

I shot a frown at her superior.

"I'm convincing her to change over to command," Kathryn explained.

"Ah, of course you are." Turning back to Miral, I said, "You know, if the admiral had her way, I'd be in a red uniform instead of a blue one."

Miral sighed. "I know. You've told me this story."

I kissed her cheek. "And I'll tell it again if it helps you make up your mind about where you want to be."

She smiled. "I'm going to take our things and get settled. Is Dad here?"

"No. He's at the house neck-deep in his next holonovel. You should comm him, make him come to the station for lunch. It'd be good for him to break away from his work for a bit. He misses you."

Miral nodded. "I miss him, too."

Giving her shoulder a squeeze, I pointed her to the aide who had accompanied me. "Mister Jensen will show you to your quarters."

"See ya later." She glanced at Kathryn and nodded. "Admiral."

Kathryn smiled and nodded back. "Thank you, Ensign."

Miral shouldered her and Kathryn's bags, then followed Jensen out of the landing bay.

I turned to Kathryn, giving her a sly smile. "You never give up on luring young, innocent officers into command, do you?"

She shrugged. "It worked when her grandfather did it for me."

"She's a good engineer."

"She'd also be a good captain."

I ticked an eyebrow. "Perhaps, if you can wear down those sharp edges."

"Yes," Kathryn said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and guiding us towards the door. "Rather like a few people I once had the pleasure of commanding."

"Point taken. Unfortunately for Starfleet command, I stuck with psychology, B'Elanna wasn't interested in becoming an officer, and Tom resigned."

"I intend to win this one over."

I laughed. "Well, in that case, I concede. When Kathryn Janeway sets her mind to something, it's already as good as done."

Kathryn responded with a throaty chuckle. As we turned into the corridor, she let her arm drop to her side. "How is everyone?"

"Doing well."

"I know Harry just left for a tour on the barrier. I expected Tom would be with you."

"He's ' _in the zone_ —'" I emphasized Tom's words in air quotes— "with his holonovel. Besides, I'm kind of looking forward to having the bed to myself. I can't remember the last time I did. Although, with Miral here, I'm sure he'll come up."

Kathryn frowned slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have let you know I was bringing Miral."

"It's fine," I assured her. "Better, actually. It's been too long since we've seen her. It gets depressing out here on the border, and we could all use more pleasant surprises. I think that's why Tom likes living planet-side. He can forget about what's on the other side of our solar system."

"I can't say that I blame him. Twenty years of cold war with the Borg is something I'd rather forget."

"Yeah," I breathed. "Me, too."

"I apologize if my surprise has interfered with your alone time."

I touched her arm. "You really, honestly don't need to apologize. I'm glad you brought Miral. And I'll be glad to see someone pull Tom away from that damn novel."

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't even handle one spouse, yet somehow you manage three."

"It isn't quite the same. We're a family. It's a group effort, and it certainly doesn't come easy. No relationship ever does."

She snorted. "You can say that again."

"Have you spoken with Chakotay recently?"

"No, but I did get a letter from your other daughter telling me all about her new assignment as his aide. She is quite excited."

I smiled. "Yes, I told her to write you. Unlike Miral, Peldara never needed convincing to go into command. I'm afraid she's far too much like Harry for her own good."

Kathryn chuckled. "She'll do well with Chakotay. She'll have her own command before you know it."

" _Un'Bentel_ ," I cursed, "don't say that. I still can't believe she's out of school already." I sighed. "They both grew up so fast."

Kathryn grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "You all did."

* * *

 **2375**

Before entering the region of space known as " _the void_ ," we had sent an early transmission through the Turei comm net to Starfleet. We wanted to alert them to the possibility that it could keep us out of communications range for two to three years. When we emerged after only four months, the Devore prevented us from sending any coms for another six weeks as we traveled through their space. Once we did manage to get a signal out, no one was on the other end to receive it—meaning at least a month's time before it reached the nearest subspace transceiver.

Finally, after nine months without word from home, we got our first transmission from Starfleet. It came about an hour before senior staff meeting, so most of us gathered in the briefing room to find out what developments had come out of the war.

After our heart-to-heart in sickbay, Tom and I had largely avoided one another. It was at my own request, as I knew I needed time and space to get over my feelings for him, and he'd been careful to respect my wishes. But when he gave me a PADD with one hand and gripped my shoulder with the other, I knew that I was in for bad news.

Just as it had with past transmissions, bad news came in the form of a casualty list. Tom had already scrolled down to the name he knew I would recognize—Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax.

"I'm so sorry, Tal," he murmured.

I closed my eyes and grit my teeth.

A different hand touched my other shoulder, and Harry's voice pushed into my awareness. "Who was it?"

"Jadzia Dax, my academy girlfriend. We'd been writing to each other before the void, catching up. She was a good friend, and a good officer."

"Dax?" Harry asked. "As in—"

My eyes snapped open, locking onto Tom's steady blue gaze. "The symbiont... did they—"

"Survived," Tom assured me. "They're now Lieutenant Ezri Dax, a counselor at Deep Space Nine."

I let out a breath. Jadzia wasn't completely gone, then.

"She wrote to you," he added. "Ezri."

My mouth opened, but I didn't make a sound. It was a lot to take in, and I wasn't sure how to process it right then. _Close your mouth_ , my mind ordered, and I obeyed. Then I offered Tom what was probably a terrible excuse for a smile. "Thank you."

He nodded, holding my gaze for an extra moment before releasing my shoulder and turning away.

Tapping on Jadzia's name brought up more information about her. There was very little in the way of details about her death, but what I found was strange. The record indicated that she was killed by Dukat in the temple on Deep Space Nine. But what was she doing in a Bajoran temple alone? And why was Cardassia's disgraced former leader there? And why only kill her?

I needed more information.

* * *

As I reviewed an update from astrometrics, the door to my office chimed.

"Come in."

To my surprise, it was B'Elanna who stepped inside. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, voice small and tight as if she was anxious.

I powered down my console's screen and pushed it aside. "Of course."

She slipped into the seat across from me. "I'm, uh... I'm sorry about your friend."

"Thank you. She was a good person. She deserved better than that."

"I know the feeling." B'Elanna shifted uneasily. "Look, I was wondering if I could talk to you sometime this week. Like, for counseling."

The surprise I felt was undoubtedly written all over my face. "You want to talk to _me_?"

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda stuck on... something, and I need to work on it. I know we have Elentia's brother here for a few days and all, but I want someone who's gonna stick around, you know?"

"If this is about Tom, I really can't—"

She shook her head. "It's not about Tom."

"Even so, aren't you worried that what I say might be affected by my history with him?"

Her spine straightened and she let out a sharp breath. "Honestly? No, I'm not worried. I mean, I know it might affect your perspective, but I also know you won't bullshit me."

I smiled. "That may be the best compliment I've ever received."

"Okay, well, that was bullshit. But, you'll be honest when it counts, right?"

I laughed. "That wasn't bullshit. I really do take that as a compliment. And yes, I will be honest with you. So here's me being honest. It's not exactly appropriate for me to counsel you given... everything."

"Because of Tom."

It wasn't just Tom. B'Elanna and I were friends and comrades. Her best friend was my husband, and my best friend was her ex—her ex that I'd slept with and briefly been in love with. And as much as she denied it, I'd been the impetus for her heartbreak… and, by extension, Tom's.

My stomach twisted, everything in me hating what I was saying—having to turn her away.

"Who the hell else am I supposed to talk to?" she asked, the silence having stretched on for too long.

"Sinta might be willing to—"

"I told you, I don't want to talk to him."

"Even if you could arrange to communicate over the comm net?"

She scoffed. "You mean the network that's constantly monitored by Zahl and Turei intelligence agencies? Fuck no."

"I have friends in high places. They might be able to arrange something."

B'Elanna crossed her arms. "Not with the Turei."

No. She was right. Queen Nessav could visit the Turei homeworld herself and they'd just laugh her out of the room. I was grasping at ends that simply weren't there.

Not once in the last four years had B'Elanna ever voiced a desire to seek counseling. She wasn't one to ask for help, period, when it came to her thoughts and feelings. The mere fact that she'd come to me at all said a lot about her need to resolve whatever difficulty she was facing. For all I knew, she could be in crisis.

If I sent her to sickbay for a crisis assessment, would she go?

I ran a hand over my face. "Sit down."

She shot me a strange look but did as I asked.

"Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"I guess so."

"In the past two weeks, have you lost interest in things you used to enjoy, or been unable to experience pleasure while doing those things?"

She looked at her lap. "Kind of."

"On a scale of one to ten—one being you still love doing things you enjoy and ten being you haven't had any interest or enjoyment of those things at all—how would you rate yourself?"

"Maybe a six."

"In the last two weeks, have you been feeling down, depressed, or hopeless?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you noticed changes in your sleeping patterns, like being unable to fall asleep or sleeping a lot more than you used to?"

She looked up and shrugged. "I've had a little insomnia, and I'm pretty tired after shifts, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Have you had thoughts about hurting yourself?"

Her spine straightened. "What?"

"Have you had any thoughts about hurting yourself?" I repeated. "Any desire to end your life or even just to inflict pain on yourself?"

She scoffed. "No, I don't want to hurt myself, and I'm not suicidal. I just want to get past this thing I have about relationships, and I thought that's what you were here for."

I nodded. "That's part of my job. But here's the thing. You and I have a complicated relationship, especially over the past year."

"I told you, I don't care about that shit. I just need help."

"And I _will_ help you, B'Elanna," I said, leaning over the desk. "I will _always_ help you. But you have to understand that what you're asking for is different. Therapy is different. It isn't like being friends. And all those complications in our relationship will make it impossible for me to be what I need to be for someone I'm doing therapy with."

"So how exactly are you planning to help me?"

"First, by suggesting that you go to sickbay and have Schmullis or Kes assess you for depression."

The look on her face said that was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid, but she didn't protest.

"Second, by giving you some resources on techniques you can use on your own to at least start getting things un-fucked for yourself."

"Will that work?"

"It might if you're willing to work at it and give yourself time to relearn how to think."

She took a breath and nodded. "I guess I can give it a try."

"Good," I said, smiling and pulling an empty PADD out of my desk.

"Was there something else?"

Setting the PADD down next to my console, I leveled my gaze on hers. "Yes, but I don't want you to feel any pressure to do anything about this last one. It isn't coming from me as a therapist, and it isn't professional advice."

"Okay…"

"I can't work with you as a counselor, but I can be a friend. If you want someone to talk things out with, you can always come to me. Or you can talk to Harry, or someone else. I just…" I pursed my lips. "I don't want you to think you have to go through this alone."

Her face softened, lips curling up into a slight smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

 **2404**

After sharing lunch with Tom, Kathryn, and Miral on the promenade, Kathryn and I headed to one of the medical labs that Julian and I used for our research on the Borg. On the biobed laid a body—presumably the body of a drone—covered by a white sheet.

Shortly after Kathryn and I arrived, Dr. Schmullis joined us. He greeted Julian with a familiar handshake before turning to Kathryn. "Hello, Admiral," he said with a nod, offering her his hand.

"Always so formal, Doctor," she quipped with a smile. Schmullis' expression grew nervous in the few seconds that Kathryn allowed to pass before she took his hand and shook it.

I had to stifle a laugh.

"It's good to see you, old friend," she told him.

His face relaxed into a smile. "And you, Admiral."

I was not so formal. As soon as he turned to me, I wrapped him up in a tight hug.

He hesitated, but only for a second, before returning the gesture.

Releasing my hold and stepping away, I smiled up at him. "How was the honeymoon?"

He smiled back. "Well, truth be told, I wasn't entirely certain that I would enjoy Risa the way everyone else seems to. But they really do go out of their way to serve everyone there. I quite enjoyed it."

I waited for more, but he added nothing. "And Lana?"

"Oh, well, yes, of course. She enjoyed it, too."

I shook my head and chuckled.

With a _whoosh_ , the doors slid open, admitting the commanding officer of the Bajoran sector. Admiral Kira Nerys was a petite Bajoran woman from an artisan family in the Dahkur Province—and she was certainly an artist of war. Only slightly younger than me, her long hair still held its auburn color despite the wrinkles forming around sharp lips and brown eyes. Her affect could vacillate between compassionate and unyielding a hundred times in any given day. At the moment, she held a stern expression that hinted at formative years spent in the Bajoran Resistance and—after the occupation's end— the Bajoran militia.

She had served on Deep Space Nine for as long as it had been called "Deep Space Nine." In fact, she was in ops on the very day my mother entered Ashalla and recruited me into the Maquis. It was something she and I laughed at when we realized our unwitting connection.

Following behind Admiral Kira was a changeling from the Gamma Quadrant named Odo, who served as the Federation's ambassador to what remained of the Dominion. The Borg had long ago wiped out all of those subject to the changelings' authority—the white-blue-scaled Jem'Hadar who had been their soldiers, and the devious Vorta who had once commanded their legions of genetically-engineered forces. All Odo and his people had left was their biological link, a tenuous alliance with the Federation, and the barriers they had helped design to keep the Borg from encroaching any further into either of our peoples' space.

"Good afternoon Admiral Janeway, Dr. Schmullis," Kira said brusquely. "I hope your trips to Deep Space Nine were pleasant."

"Very much so," Schmullis replied.

"Good. I know you've both already met Ambassador Odo."

"Yes," Kathryn said, nodding to Odo. "Good to see you again, Ambassador."

Odo dipped his head. "Admiral."

"Now that we've all been reintroduced," Julian said, "shall we get this show on the road?"

"By all means, Doctor," Kira said. "Odo?"

"Thank you, Admiral," Odo said, his gravelly voice not betraying the depth of love shared between him and Kira in their off-duty hours. He concealed his passion effortlessly, but I knew that it was the driving force behind an alliance that had saved us all from destruction.

Even so, Odo remained formal to a fault.

He turned towards Kathryn, Schmullis, and me. "Under this sheet is the corpse of a Borg drone that was pulled from a debris field in the Gamma Quadrant seven days ago. I must warn you, the identity of the drone will come as a shock."

Perhaps I could have taken him more seriously. Perhaps not.

I thought I was prepared. I thought that, after all I'd seen, I was ready to face anything. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when Julian peeled the white sheet back from the drone's body. My knees damn near buckled beneath me as one word escaped on the breath from my lips.

"Marnah."


	4. Boogieman

**Boogieman**

* * *

 **2375**

My body jerked as my eyes snapped open, thrusting me sharply back into my own present reality on _Voyager_. The sheets were moist with my own sweat, but it took me several seconds to really notice. I was too busy reminding myself that the nanoprobes in my heart couldn't assimilate me. With a shudder, I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.

Marnah—a Borg drone in the Gamma Quadrant.

Her cybernetically-augmented face was the very same one I'd been seeing since my first vision two weeks before Chakotay and I met Riley Frazier and her cooperative. Ever since then, I had assumed that the image was meant to be symbolic.

I couldn't assume that anymore.

More of that past vision played in my mind—myself in a _ranjen'i_ robe, walking barefoot through the destruction that Jem'Hadar and Cardassian troops had rained down upon the innocent Bajoran refugees of the Valo system. The death chant flowed through my memory, its smoothness a stark contrast to the gritty, blood-soaked mudd that wet my feet and stained my robe. Jem'Hadar vaporized the bodies, leaving nothing but wisps of ash behind.

" _Locusts_ ," the Prophet had called them. Dominion ships resembled the flighted insects, swarming their enemies and consuming everything.

Then, the Jem'Hadar and their locust-ships were overwhelmed by an even hungrier swarm of insects—the Borg. Drones swept through the burned-out camp, assimilating Jem'Hadar and their Vorta commanders.

Finally, the hive took Cardassia Prime.

I shook my head, refusing to recall the rest of that vision. Throwing back the sweat-soaked sheets, I peeled off my wet sleepwear and replaced it with loose-fitting exercise apparel, all the while being careful not to wake Harry.

Once I was dressed and mostly dry, I grabbed my knife and made my way to the holodeck.

* * *

I tried getting into the standard sparring program—I really did—but grappling with holograms until they tapped out just didn't do enough to keep the rising panic at bay. I needed rage and blood.

It was, unfortunately, at my own suggestion years before that total deactivation of holodeck safety protocols required two separate command codes. Were it not for that, I would have taken them offline. Nothing held my attention quite like the immediate possibility of death. Still, setting the safeties down to their bare bones made the program real enough to pull my mind into the simulated carnage, and to distract me from the ghost of my latest dream.

I didn't even notice Tuvok enter the holodeck.

He stayed out of sight until I had slaughtered every last soldier, only making his presence known once my final enemy released his dying breath. Stepping out from behind an alcove, he said calmly, "Good morning, Commander Eelo."

With a grunt, I wrenched my knife from the dead soldier's throat.

"Korma outpost," Tuvok observed, offering a hand-up.

I did not take it. Staring at the soldier beneath me—a man who used to haunt my dreams—I spat blood in his dead face and muttered, "Computer, end program."

The empty gray eyes dissipated like smoke in a breeze, along with the hard form of his body, leaving a deeply hollow feeling behind. I let the knife clatter to the deck, replicated blood shaking loose and splattering on the clean floor.

"The soldier who assaulted you during the raid?"

I nodded, still panting from the fight.

"I presume that you created this program shortly after your arrival on _Voyager_."

Again, I nodded.

"When was the last time you accessed it?"

"51486.9."

"Nearly a year and a half ago," he said, stooping to pick up my knife. He examined it for a moment before looking at me. "Why do you return to it now?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

For several long seconds, Tuvok did not move at all. When he did, he wiped the blade on his own clean sleeve, set it down, and exited the holodeck without saying a word.

It occurred to me that I must have disturbed him when I woke. The dream left me with overwhelming feelings I wasn't ready to face, so I drowned them in even stronger feelings that I knew how to handle. It was what I always did one way or another. The difference this time was that my emotions were no longer private.

Except... that wasn't a new development. It seemed new to me, but only because he'd withheld the information for months while I recovered from injuries that nearly killed me. The fact of the matter was I'd been carrying around a piece of Tuvok's _katra_ since before the dreams started.

He knew about my dreams, then. He had to know. Why hadn't he said anything?

I stared at the knife, its strange green gemstone seeming to flicker in the bright overhead lights, and I wished that Tuvok had just confronted me rather than leaving me alone with that unbearable sense of dread.

* * *

During my lunch break, Elentia paid me a visit. She said that she only wanted to keep me company, but I could tell she was holding herself back. It wasn't just the tension in her posture or the way she fidgeted with her teacup.

It was that I felt no emotions projecting from her at all.

"You haven't been this hesitant to speak your mind since we first met," I observed. "Tell me what you came here to say."

She tilted her head. "It isn't something I want to say, but something I don't understand."

"What's that?"

She set her cup on the table. "Why you have not consulted the Orb of Peace."

I winced. Immediately, I wished that I hadn't, but it was exhausting work to constantly mask my emotions, and I was losing motivation to keep up the facade when I didn't need to.

She read my reaction perfectly. "You are avoiding something you experienced as negative—painful—from the Prophet."

The memory of Marnah's assimilated face floated to the surface of my thoughts, tugging at every other memory of her and threatening to swallow me up. I pushed her down, drowning the thoughts by force.

"It's complicated," was all I could say. It was the truth, in a way. The whole matter was beyond my own comprehension—and not just because I had yet to receive all the information from Alixia's dreams. When it came to Marnah, I had no idea how to think or feel anymore.

"I can tell," Elentia said, reaching across the table to take my hand.

"Mother," I murmured, "officer, teacher, trainer, leader, hero, revolutionary, traitor, liar, spy, casualty—" I paused as my throat tightened, then forced the final word from my tongue in a whisper— "nightmare."

Elentia's grip tightened. "Why do you say that?"

"Maybe I'm just realizing that I can't afford to see her through child's eyes any longer, and I'm afraid of what darkness I might find if I look at her more closely."

"And the Prophet?"

"Comes to me as her," I answered, "more often than not."

She sighed. "I am so very sorry to have been the bearer of such pain."

I looked up at her through tearful eyes that made her face waver and blur. "You're not. The Prophet is. I think Marnah's secrets may become very important to us in the near future. I just... I need a little more time before I'm ready to face them."

She nodded. "I understand. Take whatever time you need."

* * *

"Captain." Harry's voice snapped my concentration in the middle of doing sensor recalibrations. "Incoming signal from the comm net. It's from Unity One."

" _Hold on_ ," I texted to Megan, who was in astrometrics assisting with the sensor work.

"On screen," Janeway said.

The viewscreen flickered to life, projecting a flat holo-image of Dr. Riley Frazier across the forward bulkheads of the bridge. "Captain Janeway, I have news. Our contacts from Unimatrix Zero have confirmed something they suspected for a while, but hesitated to share until they were sure. I commed as soon as they gave approval."

"Go on."

"When the virus to liberate Unimatrix Zero was introduced into the Collective, there seemed to be a secondary effect that was not part of the virus' original design. It interrupted the neural connection of drones who did _not_ belong to Unimatrix Zero. They were not prepared to be liberated from the hive mind. Many deactivated themselves. The effect did not last for long, but there was another consequence. It has fractured the Borg Collective."

Janeway frowned. "What do you mean, ' _fractured_ '?"

"I mean, Captain, that there are now six different Borg collectives, all separate from one another." She paused to let the news sink in.

Janeway looked to Chakotay with wide eyes. I glanced at Harry, whose expression was grim.

" _The hive must not be scattered to the winds_ ,'" the Prophet had told me in what seemed like a different lifetime. " _All is at risk if they are. The hive must be destroyed as one_."

It was as if fate was determined to split the Borg into factions that could more easily overrun the galaxy. But wasn't that simply the natural cycle of all empires? At some point, it would have to crumble and fall, making way for something new to grow in its place. That was how Q seemed to see it. Was it inevitable that the Federation should fall, too? What kind of empire would take over once the Borg finally fell? Something better than the Federation, or something worse than the Borg?

Did subjective concepts like 'good' and 'bad' even matter in the face of such an unknowable and inevitable future?

"What will this mean for the rebellion going forward?" Chakotay asked, pulling my attention back into the present.

"We're not entirely sure," Riley replied. "The situation is unprecedented. We hope for the best, but realistically, this will probably make our work even harder. We're fighting six enemies now, instead of one." She glanced down at her controls, blonde locks slipping over her face. "I'm sending you a report on all we know so far, and I'll forward any updates as well." She looked up at the screen again. "We're open to suggestions."

Janeway glanced at Harry, who nodded to confirm that he had the transmission. She then returned her gaze to Riley. "We'll review what you have and let you know what we come up with."

"Thank you, Captain. There's something else you should know. It's detailed in the report, but I feel as though I should tell you that these unintended consequences—Captain, our contacts have confirmed that they didn't result from the virus. They suspect—and we agree—that something else was piggy-backed on it. But we have no way of confirming what it was or where it came from, as the only samples we have are damaged. I hoped you might be able to help us answer our questions. It could make or break our war against the Borg."

Janeway nodded. "We'll look into it. Thank you, Dr. Frazier."

"Thank you, Captain."

With that, the screen went blank.

Janeway looked to ops. "Mister Kim, I want that report forwarded to every department head on _Voyager_ , and send a copy to Captain Ransom to discuss with his officers as well."

"Aye, Captain."

She turned to me. "Miss Eelo, I need your people in the middle of this, working with every other division to get the best possible results. I want a report within the hour on your plans for executing this research."

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Talia," Harry said, "I can finish your sensor recalibrations."

"Acknowledged. Transferring to ops." Returning attention to my console, I texted Megan, " _Routing to ops. Flip your end to Jen. Need to call a meeting_."

" _Aye_ ," she replied.

Harry already had my copy of Riley's report downloaded to a PADD by the time I headed for the turbolift.

* * *

An hour later, I walked into Janeway's ready room with my own report in hand. She sat at her desk, computer console active and chirping under her fingertips. Tuvok stood at ease behind her, watching me with his steady gaze as I approached. "The report you requested," I said, holding out a PADD.

Janeway looked at me as she accepted it. "Thank you, Commander. Have a seat."

I blinked, not expecting to stay beyond delivering my report and maybe answering one or two questions, but I did as she asked.

"Have you had a chance to look at their findings?"

"I've glanced over the report," I said, "but haven't studied it very closely yet."

"Did you notice anything worth mentioning?"

I knew what she was after. I noticed it right away, and it had gnawed at me for the last hour. No sense in avoiding the issue. "The virus was paired with nanoprobes that have been modified to bind to DNA and stimulate regenerative processes without fully taking over cellular function—just like the nanoprobes used to save my life."

Janeway studied me closely, her blue eyes full of concern. "You said that Annika stabbed you in the chest with her assimilation tubules just before she downloaded the virus into the sphere's central plexus. Is it possible that she collected a sample of those nanoprobes from you to act as carriers?"

"Yes, I do think it's possible. But there's still a lot of questions to be answered. Like, why use carriers when the virus was designed to slip into the neuro link unnoticed? Or, how could those nanoprobes possibly affect the Borg, as they appear to have done, when they were modified to facilitate heart tissue regeneration? I don't really understand the connection, but my people and I will do our best to find out."

"I know your division will work hard, as they always do," Janeway said. "But I need you elsewhere."

I frowned. "Captain?"

"I want you to report to sickbay for testing. Something tells me there's more happening on my ship than I realized, and I intend to find out the truth. I want those nanoprobes dissected and analyzed. Which means—" She paused, her expression growing apologetic— "Dr. Schmullis must be briefed on your genetic enhancements in order for us to consider every possibility here."

I nodded, lowering my gaze. "I understand."

"Talia," she said, calling my eyes back to hers. "I have given the issue some thought, and I believe Schmullis will see my point of view. This is highly sensitive information, not something we would want to risk transmitting across tens of thousands of light-years through an alien communications array. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. Mister Tuvok and I agree that it would be in the best interests of everyone, including the Federation, to keep it contained for the time being."

The corners of my lips twitched. "You make a good point, Captain."

"Now, it remains that this cannot be withheld from Starfleet indefinitely. Once we return to Federation space, Dr. Schmullis and I will both be required to report what we know. I'll do my best to defend your commission to Starfleet, and I have no doubt that your service record will speak for itself, but I cannot make any promises as to how they will respond once they find out the truth. You know Starfleet's policy on this."

"I know." I folded my hands, but kept my gaze steadily on hers. "My discharge was inevitable, even before Kes made this discovery. I've always known that I was on borrowed time. I'm ready to accept whatever consequences may come. It's more important that we get answers. We have to help Unimatrix Zero take down the Borg, and this is our best lead. I'll report to sickbay right away."

Janeway offered a half-smile. "Thank you, Commander."

* * *

The rest of my afternoon was spent in the quiet company of unanswered questions. At first, only Kes was there with me. Dr. Schmullis joined once he had been briefed by Captain Janeway and, although he looked unhappy at being left out of the loop, he made an effort to keep a compassionate bedside manner.

By the time I went home for the evening, I was exhausted. I went to dinner in the mess hall with Harry, but remained quiet through most of it. We went straight back to our quarters after, where he suggested we go to bed early.

Silently, I begged Alixia to give me a break from the visions. I felt her response more than heard it.

" _Rest_."

Released from the burden of dread, I allowed myself to relax as Harry helped me undress, pulled me into bed, and tucked me against his body. In his arms, I felt a sense of security that didn't exist anywhere else in the universe, and it invited me to simply _be_. It felt so good, so relieving, to let him take care of me for a while.

Cocooned in the security of Harry's embrace, I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	5. Down to the Dark

**Down to the Dark**

* * *

 **2375**

The next morning, I was asked to report directly to sickbay at the start of my shift. When I arrived, I found Janeway, Tuvok, and Schmullis waiting for me in Schmullis' office.

"Ah, Commander," Schmullis greeted. "Right on time."

I came to a stop in front of his desk. "What did you find?"

"Good morning to you, too."

"Doctor," Janeway warned. She seemed as impatient as I was to find out what exactly I had to do with this whole mess.

Schmullis dipped his head. "Yes, of course." Waking his computer console, he tapped a few controls and turned the device's screen towards us. "These are the modified nanoprobes I used to repair the damage to Lieutenant Commander Eelo's heart."

The image of a single nanoprobe dominated the screen. It looked somewhat like a small spider, except it was squared rather than round and had prongs on all four sides. The image was scaled way up, of course—nanoprobes were the size of red blood cells. Along the side of the screen were tags identifying significant features of the nanoprobe.

I resisted the urge to touch my arms.

After a moment, Schmullis reached down to press an icon on the control panel. As the image rotated, the tags changed to denote modifications he'd made to the nanoprobes prior to treatment. Then Schmullis tapped another icon, bringing up a split screen image of the nanoprobe shown in Riley Frazier's report.

"It looks exactly the same," I said.

"At first glance, yes," Schmullis said. "The sample recovered by Unimatrix Zero, without a doubt, contains nanoprobes I modified to treat you. But upon closer examination, I noticed this one had an additional modification I didn't make."

Again, he tapped the panel. The image from Riley's report zoomed in on a particular feature of the tiny cyber-spider's body, then pulled up a new tag with notes scrolling beneath it. "Not only is it programmed to attach to DNA and encourage tissue regeneration, it's also programmed to stimulate genes in charge of dopamine production."

"Dopamine," I murmured as the pieces started coming together in my head. I thought of my tricorder readings on the sphere, warning me that something unknown was disrupting the neural link all around the ship. I had assumed it was another virus, but what if it was a psychiatric issue?

"What's more," Schmullis continued, "when I examined samples I took from Miss Eelo yesterday, they have this modification, as well."

In my periphery, Janeway frowned. "Are you saying this was done to the nanoprobes prior to treating Talia?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

A sick feeling settled in my stomach.

"You did not perform this particular modification yourself?" Tuvok asked.

"Of course I didn't!"

"We're not blaming you, Doctor," Janeway said. "We just need to get some answers. What effect do increased dopamine levels have on a person?"

"Well, that would depend on many factors. At healthy levels, dopamine is a necessary, and quite helpful, little neurotransmitter."

"And at higher levels?"

"As I said, it depends on many factors. But too much dopamine can potentially lead to rapid heartbeat, high blood pressure, muscular discomfort, psychomotor agitation, difficulty concentrating, reduced impulse control, changes in appetite, increased sexual arousal, aggressive feelings or behaviors, euphoria, grandiosity..." He hesitated.

Images of Borg drones deactivating themselves flashed through my mind, mingling with memories of Marnah's voice screaming at me when she was nowhere to be seen. "Hallucinations, delusions, distorted thought patterns, changes in speech, mood, and affect, disorganized thoughts and behaviors."

Janeway gaped at me.

"Could this have been responsible for Miss Eelo's psychotic episode?" Tuvok asked.

"Well," Schmullis said, "that coupled with high levels of stress and a genetic predisposition. But yes, I think the nanoprobes were the main culprit."

Janeway's blue eyes became hard like ice. The muscles in her face seemed to suddenly tense up, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. I knew the look. She was livid.

I still felt sick just thinking about the array of implications—not only for me, or for whoever had done this, but for the drones affected by Annika's actions.

Billions of people across hundreds of worlds experienced psychotic symptoms. In fact, most every average person could experience distortions of reality or sensory input from time to time. It was utterly normal. Those with chronic psychotic conditions that couldn't be resolved with neurosynaptic therapy generally managed their mental health with medication and, sometimes, psychotherapy.

But such a strong, sudden onset within the context of a hive mind must have been incredibly overwhelming for those drones. Coupled with the collective's programming, which instructed drones to deactivate themselves if they slipped too far away from Borg "perfection," it was no wonder they responded as they did.

"There's something else," Schmullis said, pulling my attention back to him. "Once I uncovered all of this, I was quite confused as to how the neurosynaptic therapy treatments had been successful. If the nanoprobes are still inside of Miss Eelo, and still programmed to stimulate dopamine production, she should have continued to display symptoms despite treatment. I couldn't figure it out until I noticed this—" He double-tapped on the diagram, which zoomed even closer to the mysterious modification. Schmullis then did the same to Riley's diagram.

Mine had a blocker added to one of the nodes, while Riley's did not.

"Someone tampered with them _after_ the mission on the Borg sphere?" Janeway asked.

"That's correct, Captain."

She looked at Tuvok. "Then it wasn't Annika."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps not. However, it is possible more than one person was involved." He turned to Schmullis. "Doctor, we will require a list of all personnel who had access to these procedures."

Schmullis nodded. "Of course. I'll have it ready as soon as possible."

* * *

I tried to slip away quickly once the meeting ended, but Janeway caught me in the corridor. "Talia, are you alright?"

Pausing, I turned to her. "I'm fine, Captain."

She searched my face with worried eyes. "He should have talked to you privately first."

I shook my head. "No. I told him yesterday, there's no need to waste time. You'd have to be briefed anyway."

"Even so, it'd have been less of a shock for you to know what was coming."

"You don't—" A medical assistant passed us by, and I clamped my mouth shut.

"Your office?" Janeway suggested.

I nodded, then turned on a heel and resumed my previous course.

Once there, Janeway took a seat on the couch. "You were saying?"

As I settled into my wingback chair, a sense of unease coiled inside my chest.

"Talia?"

Shaking my head, I moved into the open seat beside her. It felt a bit more intimate than I wanted to be, but it would do.

Janeway angled a quizzical brow.

"When I sit in that chair, I'm a counselor."

She smiled. "I can understand that."

"Look, I appreciate how sympathetic everyone has been of what I've gone through, but I don't need to be treated like some fragile thing. Schmullis was concerned when I gave consent for a group briefing, too. I still wanted it, and I don't regret it. I'm fine. Yeah, I had a rough few months, but I'm not gonna break over every little thing, and I wish people would stop treating me that way."

Resting her hand on mine, she offered a sympathetic look. "Perhaps I have been a bit overly cautious in relation to your emotional state. I should know better. I've been in your place before. After escaping the Cardassian prison, people fussed over me for months—especially my mother. It was infuriating."

I smiled. "That couldn't have sat well with you."

"Not well at all," she said with a chuckle. Then, her smile faded. "To be honest, it's hard not to think about the day you returned from the mission. Seeing how sick you really were, I wondered if I'd made an error in judgement."

I placed my free hand on top of hers. "It wasn't your fault. I was sick long before the mission. I just hid it well."

"Perhaps not as well as you think. We knew something was wrong, although we didn't know what. Schmullis submitted a formal protest. Chakotay and Tom both tried to talk me out of it. Harry was downright livid." She paused, again searching my face for something. "Do you have any idea who might have done this to you, or why?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't."

"You didn't see anyone while you were in sickbay?"

"I was unconscious."

"What about after you returned from the mission on the Borg sphere?"

I closed my eyes and thought back. My memory from that time was blurry, but in the silence of retrospect I could pick out a few faces. "I know Sam Wildman was there at some point. Telfer. Dawson. Laghari. Jen Delaney."

" _Ensign_ Delaney?"

My eyes snapped open. "Yeah, why?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no, it's nothing. I forget she kicks in on medical shifts from time to time. She's not usually there when I visit."

Something bothered me about her reaction to Jen's name, but I pushed it aside. "I can't think of anyone else."

Janeway nodded. "I'm sure Dr. Schmullis' logs will fill in the gaps." She slipped her hand from mine and twisted her fingers in her lap. "The truth is, I'd initially intended for you to be involved in the mission only as a consultant. I had no intention of letting you go yourself. But it quickly became clear that something else was going on, and that it involved you, so I allowed you to go in hopes of gaining some intelligence on whoever was behind the evidence we found. I didn't realize how unwell you were, but I knew you weren't as ready as you wanted us to believe. I sent you anyway."

"So, you made a gamble on my mental health for the sake of a mission that was critical in more ways than one."

Folding her hands, she lifted her chin and looked me in the eyes. "I did."

My gut twisted into knots. It wasn't just the ethical violation—Starfleet Medical would jump down her throat for that, and at most Command would give her a half-hearted slap on the wrist. To them, mental health was a small price to pay for a successful mission, even when the one paying that price had an established disorder.

But how was I supposed to take Janeway's confession? My captain—whom I had pledged myself to, whom I had chosen to trust so deeply and thoroughly despite what Starfleet had put me through—had risked my sanity and my life to get intel. I was worth less to her than intel.

No. That wasn't fair. This was obviously way bigger than me. She knew something—something she wasn't telling me—and it was important. Janeway wouldn't have made this call for nothing.

Still...

I nodded, locked down my hurt feelings, and took a deep breath. "This has to do with that organization you asked me about, doesn't it? Section 31."

Janeway hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"How much do you know?"

"About their involvement in the mission? Not much."

Part of me wanted to know more about this Section 31, yet I hesitated to ask. Did I _really_ want to know? Somehow, Marnah was involved. Evidently, someone on _Voyager_ was, as well. And both had dragged me into their plans.

I knew the day was likely coming that I would not have a choice. Maybe it had always been inevitable. If I took action before fate caught up to me, then at least I could be prepared. If I knew, I might be safer. I wouldn't be a pawn anymore.

Swallowing all the fears lumped in my throat, I fixed my gaze firmly on Janeway's. "I want in."

She nodded. "Alright. Not here, and not yet, but when the time is right, I'll deal you in."

* * *

 **2404**

Two days after Odo revealed Marnah's assimilated corpse to us, we held a meeting on the station to get some much-needed answers. Beyond myself, Admiral Janeway, Admiral Kira, Drs. Schmullis and Bashir, and Ambassador Odo, we also hosted First Minister Ro Laren from Bajor—a Starfleet defector to the Maquis who had assisted Marnah in evacuating the Valo system—Captain Megan Delaney of USS _Fourcade_ , and two representatives from New Cardassia—Elim Garak and Iliana Ghemor.

"Shall we get started?" Kathryn asked.

"Begging your pardon, Admiral," Garak interjected, extending an index finger into the air and tilting his head, "but we were informed there would be a representative of the esteemed Section 31 in attendance today. May I inquire as to the whereabouts of this individual?"

Nearly every other person at the table leaned in.

"Of course, Mister Garak," Kathryn responded. "I can assure you that the individual is present and accounted for."

"Then may I inquire as to the identity of this person?"

"We called this meeting to discuss our common enemy—the Borg—and you want me to break the cover of a Federation black ops agent."

Iliana smirked, green eyes glittering as she lifted a corded brow and shrugged. "Considering the sensitivity of the information you asked us to bring to this little gathering, I think it's only fair we get something in return." She cast a haughty glance at Meg, of whom I knew she had always been suspicious—ever since our early days together on _Voyager._

"I see," Kathryn said, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "I had hoped for better, but I can't say that I'm surprised." She glanced around the table, lingering a moment on Meg, Schmullis, and me, then produced a sleek, shiny black delta and tossed it into the middle of the table. "I am the operative."

I followed the reactions of the room with my eyes like watching a wave move across the Korvale Ocean. Schmullis gaped. Meg kept a straight face, but tensed her jaw. Julian narrowed his eyes, while Kira's went wide. Odo grunted and crossed his arms. Ro scowled. Iliana laughed and shook her head. Garak's brows lifted as he, like me, observed everyone else.

Was I surprised? Of course not. I already knew. Still, I feigned a look of shock.

Kathryn had planned for such a request. She wasn't the only person present with connections to 31—after the Borg invaded Cardassian space, Section 31's influence over the Federation had exploded—but Garak and his new Obsidian Order didn't need to know everything. They just needed fair payment for their intel. Kathryn had chosen to pay the price herself rather than blowing someone else's cover. It was part of what had always made her a great leader. I only hoped that the decision wouldn't cost more than whatever the Cardassian intel was worth.

"Now, Mister Garak, Miss Ghemor," she said, "are you ready to tell us what you know?"

Garak smiled. "Quite, Admiral. Thank you." He turned to Iliana. "My dear?"

She scowled, and for a moment I thought she might slit his throat over the way he had addressed her. Her glare lingered as she reached into her jacket and produced a blue optolythic data rod. Coming to her feet, she leaned over the table and slid the rod into a reader at the center—right next to Kathryn's black badge. A holoprojector in the middle of the table activated automatically, displaying a Cardassian profile on Marnah.

"Eelo Fayeni of the Bajoran Resistance on Valo I and the Maquis Alliance. Known affectionately as ' _Kav'Eelo_ ' or 'General Eelo.' Formerly the department chair for Tactical Operations at Starfleet Academy. Rank, Commander. Recruited by Section 31 in the Earth-year 2328 by Captain Michael Thomas 'Iron Mike' Paris. Graduated Starfleet Academy in 2332. Married Alexander James Peters III, Terran, in 2335. First child, Alexander James Peters IV, born 2340. Second child, Eelo Talia, born 2342. Both conceived using illegal cloning and genetic enhancement techniques. Both raised with the intention of eventual recruitment into Section 31."

I glanced at Kathryn, who frowned. How did the Obsidian Order know all of that?

Iliana continued. "While serving as Chief Tactical Officer on USS _Hepburn_ , Eelo collected intelligence on Dahar Master Kor and the Klingon Empire and passed it along to Section 31. In 2347, Eelo was contacted by the non-corporeal entity known as 'Q.' Reason, unknown. As an instructor at Starfleet Academy, Eelo helped recruit new operatives into Section 31."

Nothing too shocking there. I folded my hands on the table.

"In 2369, after the Cardassian Union withdrew all forces from Bajor, Section 31 asked Eelo Fayeni to resign her commission in Starfleet and join the remaining Bajoran Resistance on Valo I. She negotiated with several Federation colony leaders, who eventually absorbed the Bajoran Resistance into the Maquis Alliance. From 2369 to 2373, she served as a central figure in the Maquis Alliance, seeking to destabilize the Cardassian Union as per her orders from Section 31. On stardate 50564, three days after the Cardassian Union announced its induction into the Dominion, Cardassian and Jem'hadar forces attacked the Bajoran settlements on Valo I, II, and III."

"' _Attacked_ ,'" Minister Ro muttered, eyes like cold, dark stones. She scoffed and shook her head, gray and brown hair slipping over her shoulders. "Try _slaughtered._ "

"We can argue over semantics later, Minister," Garak said. "If you'll allow Miss Ghemor to finish, I think you'll agree that this is where the file gets interesting."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she nodded at our Cardassian guests.

Iliana wet her lips. "As per the orders of Cardassia's former leader, Gul Dukat, Eelo Fayeni was captured alive and taken to Cardassia Prime for questioning. And when I say 'questioning,' I think you all know that I'm not talking about nice chats with security officers in a cushy brig. Dukat and his Changeling master wanted every Federation secret forced out of her head using any means necessary. Unfortunately for them, she cracked but never broke. All they got from her is right here in this file. So they put her in stasis until they could develop better mind probing technology. She was archived and then, eventually, forgotten."

It was my turn to gape. "Archived and forgotten? She's a human being, but you talk about her like a data file!"

Garak inclined his head. "Apologies, Commander Eelo. You are right that it is an insensitive outlook, yet that was the general attitude of Dukat's military state. To him, and to his leadership, your mother may as well have been another data file."

"And it's the only reason he kept her alive," Iliana said. "Well, that and because the Changeling wouldn't let him publicly execute her like he wanted."

"You should know, Commander," Garak added, fixing me with a sympathetic gaze, "by the time Dukat ordered your mother be placed in stasis, she was no longer the woman you knew. Cardassian memory retrieval techniques were brutal and highly damaging. According to the medical reports, she was quite unwell. The doctor overseeing her at the time seemed to be in doubt as to whether it was, and I quote, 'worth the trouble to preserve what little is left of her mind.' I apologize that we must be so blunt."

My chest felt heavy as I sucked in a breath. I blinked back tears. "She was still a living person."

"And a citizen of Bajor and the Federation," Ro added. "No matter what state she was in, she had rights, and your people violated them."

"Didn't anyone think to return her to Bajor once the war ended?" Kira asked.

"I'm afraid that all known records of her existence were lost in the rebellion on Cardassia Prime," Garak said. "Dukat was killed, and the female Changeling never spoke of General Eelo during her tenure in Federation custody. Those of us who remained were, as the Terrans say, 'none the wiser.'"

Kira turned to Odo. "You never learned any of this from the female Changeling when you linked with her?"

"If I had, I would have told you."

"But why would she keep that a secret? What good could it possibly do for her?"

Odo shrugged. "Why not? It's not as if it cost her anything to keep it. After all, no one knew that Eelo Fayeni was still alive. Maybe she just wanted a secret to keep."

"All of this is beside the point," Minister Ro said. "The point is that Fayeni survived, was taken back to Cardassia, had her brain scrambled up, was put in stasis and forgotten, and then was assimilated by the Borg."

"More than that," Schmullis added, "she somehow ended up dead in a rival collective's territory."

"Curious that they didn't simply assimilate her," Julian said.

"Are you quite certain that they didn't make any attempt to assimilate her?" Garak asked.

"Oh, there's no doubt. All of her cybernetic implants are of the J-25 collective's design, and her neural link was fully in tact. The Gamma Collective didn't touch her."

"Could they be negotiating terms with J-25?" Ro asked.

I shook my head. "I have never found any evidence to suggest that the Borg have incorporated negotiation into their programming."

"Maybe the Borg have made a friend who can think outside of the box," Iliana said.

"Doesn't sound very Borg-like," Ro argued.

"Neither does negotiating."

"Seems more likely than making a friend and not assimilating them."

"At the moment," Kathryn interjected, "both possibilities merit further consideration."

"Agreed," Garak said. "Captain Delaney, may I presume that you are in attendance because you were the one to make this discovery?"

Meg nodded. "That's right."

"Was there anything else of note in the vicinity of General Eelo's body? Other drones, for example, or physical evidence of the circumstances surrounding the vessel's demise?"

"There were several other bodies in the area. A few were preserved, but others were in pieces."

"J-25 drones?" Ro asked.

"No, Gamma. The wreckage, too, came from a Gamma sphere. As far as my crew could tell, Eelo was the only J-25 on board. Though, there wasn't much left to go on."

"Maybe she was a weapon," Kira suggested.

"Again," I reiterated, "that presumes a great deal more creative thought than the Borg are known to be capable of."

"Maybe so," Kathryn said, "but it's another option to consider."

"All these guesses," Iliana said. "Does anyone here have any answers?"

"We know one thing," Kathryn replied. "For the first time in almost thirty years, the J-25 and Gamma collectives have had some form of interaction with one another. Regardless of the how and the why, we're currently in the middle of their collectives, and that's bad news for us."


	6. City of Woe

**City of Woe**

 _Source Episode: VOY 5x15/16 Dark Frontier_

 _CW: Non-graphic depictions of emotional and sexual abuse._

* * *

 **2375**

In quiet moments throughout the morning, I asked Alixia for guidance in how to handle my meeting with Tuvok. Should I refuse his request for a mind meld, or should I let him in? Would it be so terrible for him to glimpse these visions of a future we needed to avoid?

I neither heard nor felt a reply.

" _You must not act upon, share, or make any record of what I reveal until I tell you the time is right_ ," Alixia had told me at the start. " _Otherwise, all we have set into motion could be lost_."

I knew what I had to do. She told me how high the stakes were, and I couldn't let her down. Q and the Prophet had never been honest enough to hint that their two species had limits, but Alixia didn't hesitate to tell me the truth.

" _All we have set into motion could be lost_."

Non-corporeals were cosmic chess masters, but they were still subject to rules of the game. They could plan many moves ahead, yet still lose in the end. They were not omnipotent.

What opponent were they playing against? Surely, it wasn't the Borg. Was there a race even more powerful than the Prophets, the Q, and the Nacene? Or was it simply the laws of nature that held them back, trapping them in an unfortunate series of events they had failed to account for?

Either way, I had to refuse the mind meld.

* * *

Tuvok was perplexed by my refusal to participate in a mind meld. His eyes narrowed, peering at me through dim lighting and ratcheting up the anxiety that tightened my chest. "Why do you fear the mind meld?"

"I don't."

"Need I remind you that I can sense your anxiety?"

"I don't like people being in my head." It wasn't untrue, just not the answer he was looking for.

"As a matter of fact, I have been aware of your heightened levels of anxiety, among other strong emotions, for the past four days."

"I've been having bad dreams. It's... the trauma." Also not entirely untrue, although I hadn't had a trauma-related dream in days.

He ticked an eyebrow.

Did he know I was misleading him? No, he couldn't read my thoughts. He was simply trying to get under my skin. I sat up straighter, crossed my arms, lifted my chin, and glared right back. Inwardly, I grumbled to Alixia that my efforts had better be worthwhile.

Then a bright blue light filled Tuvok's dimly-lit quarters, and I lost track of everything.

* * *

 **2404**

When I was reactivated, my initial impression was a sense of chaos. Billions of voices were speaking and shouting against one another as if vying for dominance.

Then, one voice rose above the others, bringing order to the chaos. Individuals outside of the collective referred to her as a queen, but to us she was everything.

She was the Borg.

As she brought me out of regeneration, her cold hand touched my chin. It seemed unnatural. "Seven of Nine," she said, "Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One."

I opened my eyes. Before me stood a short, female drone. She was smaller than me in stature and build, and her face was uncharacteristically in tact. Her cranial implant had been installed at the top of her head, and I could not help but think again about the way individuals referred to her—a queen. Perhaps the implant could serve as her crown.

The drone smiled, and it occurred to me that she could hear my thoughts. Still, she chose to speak aloud. "Good morning. Did you have pleasant dreams?"

I stepped out of the alcove, which clicked and deactivated behind me. Despite the presence of the collective within my mind, I was still fully in control of my own thoughts. I was an individual. The voice of the collective was ordered, but my own thoughts were cluttered and chaotic. As I studied the drone's face, one thought rose above the rest. "You are familiar to me."

"I know you well, Seven of Nine. I know you better than anyone else ever has. I have known you since your assimilation. I raised you in Unimatrix Zero—showed you the frail pleasures of individuality within its limited confines—even as the Borg helped you to achieve perfection in your true form. Then you were taken from us, ripped from the heights of perfection and forced to suffer as a fully realized individual. You let them take you apart, remake you in their image. Even after I found you again, you embraced them instead of me. You tried to run from me, to betray me, but you can never truly escape what you are or the place where you belong."

Although I was unsure if the thought had been my own, or if she had given it to me, I realized then who she was. She appeared quite different from the woman I had been intimate with in Unimatrix Zero, but there could be no doubt. "You are Loran."

The drone smiled. Her hand tightened on my chin, holding me still as she kissed me on the mouth. I attempted to push her away, but she bit my lip and held me fast. When I finally forced her off, some of my skin went with her. She smiled again, my blood staining her teeth.

I shuddered, then lifted a hand to feel the wound.

Loran pushed my hand away. "Allow us to assist you."

In the collective mind, she called a medical drone forward to repair the damage. A man stepped into the light, and his empty grey eyes fixed on me. He grabbed my chin, just as Loran had, and I was overwhelmed by fear. I tried to pull away, but the drone's effort was sufficiently effective to carry out Loran's command. Lifting the servo-armature that hung from his opposing shoulder, he activated the dermal regenerator and ran it over my lip until it was healed. Then he released me and stepped back into the darkness, leaving us relatively alone.

With the same cold hand she had used to grab my chin, Loran ran her fingertip along the edge of my newly-healed lip. I pulled my head away, and her expression became hard. "You should be more grateful."

"You deceived me," I said.

"You are experiencing an emotional reaction because you believe that I betrayed you." She studied my face closely. "Anger. It is irrelevant. I told you what was necessary to maintain the illusion of individuality, just like I did for the rest of them. It is in the past now. You have left them behind. Try to abandon their petty emotions, as well."

"You captured me in battle."

"A battle that you lost. We saved you."

"You destroyed Unimatrix Zero and murdered everyone who was once a part of it."

"Resistance is futile."

"Except for me." I looked more closely at her eyes, which resembled mercury in the dim green light. "Why not simply assimilate me? Why keep me inactive all this time only to wake me now as an individual?"

"We need you just as you are," Loran said. "You have already served us so well. Your information on all of our rivals has been most helpful."

Out of curiosity, I reached into the collective consciousness for an answer to the question that formed in my mind. How had my knowledge been used? "You have assimilated the other Borg collectives into your own," I said.

Loran lifted her sharp chin. "Our thoughts are one. Now, you will help us achieve the next part of our plan—assimilating Bajor and claiming the wormhole. Once their defense net is down, the rest of the Federation will fall. Soon, we will understand what the noncorporeals saw in these two inferior species, and we will be that much closer to achieving perfection."

"I am unfamiliar with the technology of their barrier. In what way do you expect me to assist you?"

"If information were all we needed from you, we would already have it. The Federation has an asset that we require, which is currently located on Deep Space Nine. You will help us capture it."

An image from a Starfleet profile flickered in my mind well before the collective spoke her name into my thoughts. She was aged, but appeared otherwise the same as she had when I knew her—copper-red hair, turquoise eyes, pale skin, and a science-blue Starfleet uniform. "Commander Eelo Talia."

"We also require the return of some components—a drone that we weaponized against the last remaining faction of Borg in the Gamma Quadrant."

"A drone that used to be Commander Eelo's mother," I said.

"A drone that left behind her trivial, selfish life and was reborn with a greater purpose, as we all have been."

I lifted my chin. "I will resist."

Loran smiled. "We know."

* * *

 **2375**

The vision ended like the sudden cutoff of a nightmare, leaving me breathless and terrified. As the strange blue light in the room dissipated, I could almost feel that familiar paranoia crawling beneath my skin.

It wasn't real. Although I didn't physically feel the nanoprobes the way I used to, the panic was the same.

Helpless. I was helpless. Nowhere was safe. I couldn't escape my fate. Backing up against the nearest piece of furniture, I pulled my legs to my chest, buried my face in my knees, and rocked. I fisted clumps of hair, pulling tighter, tighter, until I became aware of a stinging pain in my scalp.

A drone sensing pain would be compelled to correct the issue, to resolve whatever injury that pain was signaling because it meant there was damage. Far be it from a Borg to accept imperfection. As long as I could feel pain and sit with it, I could be sure that I wasn't a drone. I wrapped my mind around that knowledge just as tightly as my fists were curled into my hair.

"Lieutenant Commander Eelo," Tuvok said, his deep voice anchoring me to the present reality. "You are safe."

A calm not my own pressed against my fear, but I pushed it back. "Get _OUT_ of my head!"

The calm pulled away.

Despite the frantic flutter of my heart and the breathless feeling in my lungs, I whispered, "My name is Eelo Talia. I'm the Chief Science Officer and counselor on the Federation starship _Voyager_. I'm thirty-three years old. I'm married to Lieutenant Harry Kim. The stardate is 52788. We're in the Delta Quadrant, traveling through friendly space near the Turei Communications Network." I paused to breathe. "I'm safe."

"Very good," came Tuvok's voice again. "Would you care for a glass of water?"

Water. Water. Dragging my mind away from panic, I shifted attention instead to the dryness in my throat. I hadn't even noticed it, but I was thirsty. "Yes. Yes, water. Please."

I listened to the sound of Tuvok rising from his mat on the floor, the quiet footfalls as he walked to the replicator, his command for cold, flat water. Little by little, the anxiety began to recede. By the time he returned, I was able to release my fists and take the glass from his hand. I drank the cool liquid in gulps at first, then forced myself to stop and take a breath.

Tuvok's eyes were calm as he knelt before me. "May I presume that your late night distress has been triggered by other similar experiences?"

Only then did reality really settle back in. I wiped my lip with my sleeve. "You saw it, too?"

"I did."

The vision—he saw it. Suddenly, all I could think about was Alixia's mandate against sharing my visions with anyone else. But Tuvok had seen it through no fault of my own. Was that Alixia's answer to the question I had been silently asking all day? Was it a sign that I was free to share what I knew about our future?

"Commander," Tuvok said, his voice infusing my mind with a sense of calm. His _katra_ reached for me, inviting me into honesty, openness, and companionship. "It is not necessary for you to bear this burden alone."

I took another sip of water. So many thoughts and feelings swirled within me, and I tried to cling to the most important one. "I was told... Alixia told me that I had to wait until the time was right to reveal anything. It seems—" I almost felt silly saying it, like a character in a bad holonovel— "It seems that the fate of our galaxy may be at risk if we act too soon."

Tuvok's gaze remained nonjudgmental. "At the risk of being overly presumptuous, I must point out that I was included in receiving this latest vision. Perhaps Alixia believes it is time."

I glanced at the floor as I worried my lip between my teeth. He wanted me to tell him what else I had seen, but at the moment I struggled to think clearly about anything. Closing my eyes, I attempted to recall that distant future life of mine on Deep Space Nine, but all that surfaced was Loran's predatory smile, the feeling of her hand like a vice gripping my chin, the sharp pain of her teeth cutting into my lip, and that twisted Borg crown anchored to her skull.

She was going to capture Annika at some point during the war, glean intel from Annika's mind to reunite the Borg factions under her control, take Cardassia and assimilate Marnah, manipulate and abuse my friend for her own ends.

Then she was going to come after me. But why?

I shook my head and opened my eyes, focusing on the warmth of Tuvok's dark brown irises until they chased away Loran's cold mercury gaze. "I can't. Not right now. I can't think straight."

"I understand if you wish to reschedule, but do not forget that with a mind meld, I can assist you in making sense of all you have been shown."

It was better than going home haunted, or trying to bury the vision in another bloody round at Korma outpost. Still, I hesitated. "What about you? I can't imagine it will be healthy for you to meld with me right now... like this."

"It will not progress my condition any more rapidly than it is already progressing," he assured me.

One last time, I reached out for Alixia's guidance. I waited for a long moment but sensed no reply. Then, with a hard swallow, I decided it was time to make up my own mind. Tuvok's logic was sound, and his intentions were good. I trusted that. I only hoped that I wasn't about to single-handedly seal our galaxy's dark fate.

"Okay," I said. "Let's do the meld."


	7. Way Down We Go

**Way Down We Go**

 _Source Episodes:_ _VOY 5x15/16 Dark Frontier, DS9 7x25 What You Leave Behind_

* * *

 **2404**

The alarm sounded in the middle of the night.

Although every resident of Deep Space Nine had been drilled hundreds of times on how to respond to that particular klaxon, it was still jarring. As I sat up in bed, it took a bleary-headed moment for its meaning to register.

The barrier between us and the Borg had been breached.

I couldn't help but wonder if Tom and B'Elanna were, in the very same moment, waking to that alarm on Bajor. How long would the government wait to send the warning out to civilian homes? I knew they wouldn't evacuate until receiving confirmation from Deep Space Nine, but this wasn't an evacuation order.

Only twice had I ever actually been at our home in the hill country west of Ashalla during a barrier drill. The first was five years before, when we bought the house. All six of us—B'Elanna, Tom, Miral, me, Harry, and Peldara—had to run a drill as part of the legal process to own a home on Bajor. The second was about a year ago, station time, when Harry and I took shore leave and spent two weeks living in a house that was, for all intents and purposes, Tom and B'Elanna's home.

All of this is what ran through my head as I raced around my empty quarters, heart pounding in double-time with the klaxon's wail. I thought of Miral waking up in guest quarters on the station, and of Peldara only a sector away with Chakotay and _Enterprise-G_. I thought of Kasidy, our Terran neighbor on Bajor, living all alone in a beautiful home that had been designed to surround a family. I thought of Harry and his little scout ship bravely watching the barrier, and I wondered if he was already dead or assimilated.

Never had I gotten into uniform as quickly as I did that night.

* * *

Ops was a madhouse.

I wasn't entirely sure where to stand once I stepped off the lift, so I tucked myself out of the way to await further instructions. I didn't have a station in the operations center of Deep Space Nine. I had an office, a meeting room to brief my counselors and interns, and a research lab that I shared with Julian, all of which were on level two of the promenade. Normally I had no reason to venture up to ops, but the threat of Borg invasion made my expertise vital.

Admiral Kira barked orders at anxious gamma-shift officers, seeming for all the world like she was fearless, but I knew better. She was soon joined by Admiral Janeway and Miral, who slipped right into the chaos with ease. They fielded comms from Federation-allied ships who were coming to defend our barrier while Kira oversaw the mobilization of Starfleet forces that were stationed near Bajoran space.

A moment later, Julian was beside me. He never said a word, which was unusual for him, but he did squeeze my shoulder when a report came from Harry's ship. They were alive.

Then a shuttle came through the barrier.

It was small, old, and unimposing. Hundreds of Borg ships waited on the other side of the barrier breach, but none attempted to cross over.

"I need information on that shuttle," Kira said.

"It's Federation," answered a Lieutenant at a sensor control station, "a type-six shuttlecraft—"

"That's ancient," I murmured.

"You'd think the Borg might have better technology than a shuttle from the 2360's," Julian mumbled back.

"—one lifesign," continued the lieutenant. He looked up with wide eyes. "Terran."

"Admiral," called the officer manning communications, "the shuttle is sending out a general comm."

"On screen."

When the viewscreen flickered to life, I thought for a moment that I had fallen into a nightmare haunted by the ghost of my guilty conscience. Her rectangular face was framed by golden-blonde hair and wrapped in fair skin with a healthy pink undertone. Her blue-green eyes were as sharp as I remembered them to be, and a thin sliver of metal arched over her left brow.

"My name is Annika Hansen," she said. "I was liberated from the collective many years ago, and I served on the USS _Voyager_ under Captain Kathryn Janeway's command. I defected to assist in Unimatrix Zero's war against the Borg, but was ultimately captured and held in stasis. They have sent me across the barrier, alone and unarmed, in order to negotiate terms with the Federation and its allies for a peaceful solution that will serve all our interests. I request safe passage to Deep Space Nine for the purpose of this meeting. Please respond."

She repeated the message once more, then the image disappeared.

Kathryn's eyes met mine, and I had no doubt that the shock in her face was a mirror of my own. Annika looked as if she hadn't aged much at all since the last time we saw her nearly three decades before. Had the J-25 collective enhanced her somehow in order to use her against us? She didn't look or sound like a drone, but everything about the series of events was wrong for what I knew of the Borg. It had to be a trap.

Except the Borg didn't set traps.

My mind was on the lookout for danger, and I could feel my body grow even more tense in response. I wanted to believe in something more hopeful. Annika was finally coming home, and I should have been overjoyed to see her. Yet her arrival felt wrong in some unexplainable way. Deep within my _pagh_ , I knew this was the endgame. We were about to be checkmated.

And I couldn't shake the sense that it was ultimately my fault.

* * *

Within fifty-six hours of Annika's arrival, we managed to call quite the gathering at Deep Space Nine. The wardroom was abnormally crowded, with extra seats added to the long table at its center. When Admiral Kira strode in to take her place at the head of the table, only two chairs remained empty.

Kathryn sat immediately to Kira's right, followed by Julian and myself. B'Elanna was beside me, being that she was the Federation ambassador to Qo'nos. Next to her was General Worf of the Klingon Defense Force—a top advisor to Chancellor Martok—and his wife Ba'el, the Klingon ambassador to the Romulan Republic. The seat at the foot of the table was empty, as was the seat beside it. Across from General Worf sat Senator Vorath of the Romulan Republic, followed by Elim Garak and Iliana Ghemor. Finally, to Kira's left, were Ambassador Odo and Prime Minister Ro Laren.

At Kira's signal, the doors on the far end of the wardroom slid open. Chakotay was the first to step inside, tall and muscular in his command-red uniform, thick silver hair cut short as always. Following behind him was Annika, perfectly-postured and painfully tense inside of her loose-fitting civilian clothes, looking so very out of place among the aged crowd. Last to enter were two of the station's security guards, who took their posts at either side of the door.

As Chakotay approached the table, I snuck a quick glance at Kathryn. It wasn't terribly subtle, but she didn't seem to notice. For the first time since her arrival on the station, I saw her gravitas falter at the sight of her ex-husband and former first officer.

His deep brown eyes met hers, gentle and perceptive, yet he did not smile. "Admiral," he said, dipping his head.

"Captain," she replied.

B'Elanna shifted in her seat.

Ever the gentleman, Chakotay pulled back the chair at the end of the table for Annika before taking his own seat beside her. Only then did he finally meet my gaze, and his lips twitched upward.

I let out a breath and smiled back.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Miss Hansen," Kira said.

Annika inclined her head. "Thank you, Admiral. I am sorry that my visit must occur under such unpleasant circumstances."

"So am I. You said that you were captured by the Borg and put into stasis."

"That is correct."

"When were you captured?"

"Stardate 58512."

"So you have been in stasis for the last twenty-three years?"

"By Terran standards, yes."

Kira folded her hands on the table. "Before we get into any negotiating, I think we'd all like some reassurance that this isn't a deception. Based on my own experience, as well as the extensive research Doctors Eelo and Bashir have done on Borg psychology and neurology, I have to say that I doubt your claims of a Borg collective willing to negotiate terms for peace. The Borg have never negotiated with anyone before—not that we're aware of. Why now?"

"Your concerns are valid," Annika said. "I, too, was surprised upon being awakened from stasis. When I was captured by the Borg, I expected assimilation or destruction, not conversation. I cannot offer you any absolute certainty beyond the fact that I am here, I am an individual, and the offer I have brought may be the only thing that prevents the Borg from assimilating the Federation."

"That's asking a lot of trust from us that neither you nor the Borg have earned," Minister Ro said.

"Perhaps we should hear the terms first before we begin passing judgements," Garak suggested.

"I agree," said Kathryn. "What exactly does the queen want?"

"You will be given one month to evacuate all personnel and civilians, after which you will surrender the Bajoran system, as well as the space surrounding both termini of the Bajoran Wormhole, to the Borg. This station must be left in tact for the Borg to assimilate. You will also turn over all Borg-centric research, as well as all Borg components that you have collected and stored. Finally—" She hesitated, her face tensing as if she were in pain. "—you will surrender Commander Eelo Talia into the custody of the Borg."

B'Elanna's body went rigid. " _What!?_ "

"Absolutely not," Chakotay said.

"Interesting," Garak said. "Very interesting, indeed. And what is it that the Borg are offering in exchange for all of this?"

"Their word that they will not invade any other sectors belonging to the United Federation of Planets or its current allies."

"The Borg are without honor," General Worf insisted. "We cannot simply accept their word."

"What choice do we have?" Iliana asked. "If we say no, they'll just invade us anyway."

"You would rather betray one of your own to save yourself?" Ba'el asked.

Iliana scoffed. "No offense to Talia, but she is _not_ 'one of my own.' Besides, what's that thing Vulcans say? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?"

"Or the one," Senator Vorath added. "And I believe it was one half-Vulcan who said that, as opposed to being a proverb common to the entire species."

"The point is," Iliana said forcefully, "if one person has to be sacrificed for the greater good, I'm okay with that."

"It won't be just one person," Ro pointed out. "There are many Bajorans who won't be willing to evacuate."

Iliana shrugged. "That's on them, not the rest of us."

"Bajor is our home. We've been there since before your species had a prefrontal cortex. As for the wormhole, it is our only connection to the Prophets. Can't you understand why that might be something worth fighting for?"

"It's a planet, Minister. Pick up your shit and go find a new one."

Ro crossed her arms. "Funny, that sounds a lot like what your people told the Romulans and Remans after you helped blow up the Hobus star."

Vorath's eyebrows twitched as he shifted his gaze from Ro to Iliana.

"Enough," Kira snapped. "We won't get anywhere going at each other's throats."

"This is outrageous," Worf said. "I would rather face the Borg in battle than betray a comrade and run like a coward. There is no honor in that."

"Hear, hear," B'Elanna said.

Odo spoke next. "I'm surprised no one is curious as to _why_ the Borg would specifically want Commander Eelo."

Iliana smirked. "Well, if that's the discussion we're going to have, then I think we're missing two very important people."

"And who might that be?"

"Megan and Jennifer Delaney."

I had to stifle a laugh. For all that Iliana had changed over the years, her grudge against the Delaney sisters hadn't changed at all.

Vorath tilted his head. "I fail to see the benefit of bringing a Starfleet field officer and her retired sister into this conversation."

Annika cut in. "Miss Ghemor is correct in that the officers in question did play a significant role in events leading to our current situation, but so have others who are now absent."

B'Elanna leaned forward. "What's that supposed to mean? What role did they play? And who else was involved?"

Annika opened her mouth to speak, but Kathryn cut her off. "It's not important. Annika, are you currently linked to the hive mind?"

"Yes, but not in the same way most drones are. Prior to my liberation from the collective, as you know, I was an administrative drone, which required a different neurological approach. Due to genetic modifications during my development in a Borg maturation chamber, I am currently able to keep my own thoughts separate from the collective. If I wish to access or communicate with the hive mind, I have that ability. However, I am not compelled by the Borg to do so."

"Still, I would feel much more comfortable if you stepped out for a few moments so that we could discuss this matter amongst ourselves. I'm sure you can understand."

Annika nodded. "Of course, Admiral." With that, she stood and exited the room, both security officers following after her.

Garak wasted no time. "I must say, Admiral Janeway, you did put a stop to that particular side of the discussion quite abruptly. It makes me wonder what exactly the Federation and its intelligence agents know about our current predicament that they are not sharing with their allies."

Every eye in the room went to Kathryn. She lifted her chin, peering down her nose at him. "I see no reason to dwell on the past. We cannot change it. We can, however, make a choice here and now to deal with what is in front of us, which is exactly what we are here to do."

A few other voices rose in either support or opposition, but they suddenly seemed to fade into the background. I closed my eyes, mind growing murky as if it was submerged in lakewater. Kathryn's words echoed in my brain. _We cannot change the past._

Then a deep male voice that seemed distantly familiar spoke "They can't, but we can."

"Who are you?" I asked, looking around but only perceiving hazy blue light.

"You already know the answer to that."

"The Prophet who guided me to _Voyager_ ," I said. "But you're not like the other Prophets, are you?"

Through the haze, a dark figure appeared. He was little more than a silhouette at first, but as he drew near I could pick out features that I had seen in Starfleet files, Bajoran icons, and the holoimages scattered about my neighbor Kasidy's home. He was Terran, with dark eyes, brown skin, a bald head, a black goatee, and a Starfleet command uniform that had been out of circulation for decades. I knew his name was Captain Benjamin Sisko, former commander of Deep Space Nine.

Still I fell to my knees. "Emissary."

With a warm hand beneath my chin, he guided me back to my feet. "The path you walk is not linear, Eelo. Death is before you, but hope lies behind you."

I frowned. "You mean I have to go back in time to fix this?"

"Who are you?"

Without thinking, the old answer Marnah had drilled into me as a child burst from my lips. "I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor."

"Do you walk the path of the Prophets?"

Like a child caught in a lie, a strong sense of guilt filled my chest. "No," I murmured, "I don't"

"I disagree," Sisko said. "Who are you?"

Although I was tempted to ask the Emissary what he wanted me to say, I chose instead to give my own answer. "Commander Eelo Talia, a research psychologist in the service of Federation Starfleet."

"Who else are you?"

"Wife to Harry, partner to Tom and B'Elanna, mother to Peldara and Miral, child of Earth and Bajor."

"Who else?"

"Former Maquis rebel. Former officer aboard the USS _Voyager_. Explorer. Survivor." I paused, withholding the more brutal and honest words I had long held close to my _pagh_.

"Speak them," the Emissary said.

I hung my head. "Danger. Killer. Weapon. Failure. Unworthy. Monster."

"Name that which you hold most against yourself."

Annika's strong jaw, blonde hair, and blue-green eyes wafted to the surface of my thoughts. There were any number of ways that I could have intervened to save her and, ultimately, save us all. If Marnah had been honest with me about what I truly was—or if I had figured it out sooner—I could have stopped this whole war and kept Annika from acting too quickly. I knew it wasn't entirely fair to hold myself so completely accountable, but that did nothing to alleviate the guilt—or worse, my deep sense of shame.

"Name it," he prodded.

"Losing Annika on that mission, abandoning her to the Borg. Not stopping her, and failing to fulfill my purpose."

"The path of the Prophets is not always clear. Sometimes you have to be the one to clear it. Your path is not linear. You're not a prisoner to fate. Seek your redemption with forgiveness for yourself, and you will find the path to peace."

From somewhere else, a slender hand grabbed my own. Then a larger hand squeezed my shoulder and shook me gently.

"Talia."

My eyes snapped open, bringing the wardroom sharply into focus. B'Elanna was holding tightly to my hand while Julian was shaking me out of my stupor and calling my name. I looked from one to the other, their worried eyes seeking to understand what was happening to me.

Julian turned to Kira. "Admiral, I'd like a recess so I can examine Commander Eelo in the infirmary."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "But, I would like to be dismissed from these proceedings."

"For what reason?" Kira asked.

"I have to seek the Prophets. It's our only option."

Across the room, I heard Iliana scoff. "Oh for fuck's sake."

"The Prophets haven't spoken to anyone since the Emissary left us," Ro said. "What makes you think they'll listen to you now?"

"Talia," Chakotay said, his voice gentle, "what did you see?"

"The Prophet who spoke to us when we were in the Nekrit Expanse with Riley's co-op, and who freed Annika from the collective. Tay, it's the Emissary. He was the one with us on _Voyager_."

"Captain Sisko?" Kira asked. When I turned, her eyes were wide.

I nodded. "Yes, Captain Sisko."

"What did he say?"

I looked into Kira's brown eyes—eyes that had long looked upon the wormhole with unflinching faith. "It's not linear."

That was all she needed to know. " _Sona a'Bentel_ ," she said with a nod, dismissing me.

Glancing at B'Elanna, I gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

She frowned. "For what?"

For what the Borg would do to the Federation once they realized where I've gone. But I kept the words to myself. What could I say? Any hint at what I was about to do, and she would try to stop me. Considering how important I apparently was to the Borg, most everyone in the room might try to stop me.

No, I couldn't explain, nor could I take the time to say goodbye to anyone. I simply shook my head and whispered, "For this." Then, ignoring every question and protest from others at the table, I stood and turned my back on them all, making my way instead for the nearest runabout.

The Borg would take the galaxy no matter what. General Worf was right—no way would they keep their word indefinitely. But if I was indeed so valuable to them as to induce such odd and desperate behavior, then I needed to ensure they could never get their tubules into me. The wormhole was the only place I knew that would be safe.

So I would walk with the Prophets, just as the Emissary had.


	8. Fire in my Head

**Fire in my Head**

 _CW:_ _Discussions of emotional and sexual abuse, exploitation, sex work, and drug abuse._

* * *

 **2375**

Within an hour of the vision's end, Tuvok and I were seated on the couch in Captain Janeway's ready room. The meld had left me with an abnormal sense of inner calm. I didn't fidget, shake my leg, or wring my hands. I simply sat, watching Janeway rest her hip against the rail and cross her arms, waiting for an explanation.

Tuvok was more unsettled than I'd ever known him to be. He did his best to conceal any outward displays of anxiety, but I could tell by the way Janeway looked at him that even she had noticed the difference.

Inwardly, his _katra_ sent a barrage of strong emotions my way—feeling after feeling, mixed and overlapping. It was chaos. I knew they had all originated in me, and he only carried them because of the meld. Yet somehow, for the first time in perhaps ever, I was able to passively observe them as they came and went, like a mindfulness exercise that came inexplicably naturally to me.

Was that what it had felt like for him ever since the day he saved my life and bound our souls together?

The words flowed easily from my lips as I explained everything to the captain—the promise Alixia asked me to make, the dream-visions she'd given me, and the dark future they revealed. I told her about the Emissary—that he was the Prophet who had come with me to _Voyager_ to guide us along our path.

Were it not for the meld, I may very well have held my tongue from pure embarrassment. It was all so absurd, so far-fetched, and so mystical—way outside of anything I would have normally considered to be likely or rational. I sounded like one of the ancient _ranjen_ -poets telling their flowery bullshit tales of miracles and visions and prophecies.

Except it wasn't bullshit—not this time, at least.

Janeway kept a mostly-neutral expression until I mentioned that, after the Borg invasion of Cardassian space, Section 31 had grown and become a legitimate branch of Starfleet. Her eyes widened at that, but little did she know what was coming.

"The Cardassian representatives wanted collateral for their intel," I told her. "They wanted the identity of the agent in attendance. There were actually three officers at that meeting who had connections to Section 31, but the Cardassians didn't know that."

When I paused, Janeway's brows lifted. "And? Who was the agent?"

"Myself and Dr. Julian Bashir were loosely connected due, at least in part, to our research. But the agent who revealed their identity to Iliana and Garak—" I paused again. "It was you, Captain."

She gaped at me, eyes so wide I thought they might pop out of her head. " _Me_?"

I studied her carefully, looking for any sign of ambivalence or deception. It wasn't so long ago that she'd first brought up Section 31 to me, and every sign pointed to her not being one of them at the present moment. Still, she could have been lying. "Are you currently affiliated with Section 31?"

She looked at Tuvok. "You didn't tell her?"

"I did not, Captain," he said.

Janeway looked again at me. "No, Commander, I am not affiliated with Section 31. In fact, Mister Tuvok and I have been actively working to investigate Section 31 for nearly a decade in hopes of eventually exposing them in a way that will leave Starfleet no choice but to eliminate the agency and strike them from the Federation Charter. So you can imagine my surprise at your claim that I will work for them in the future."

"The Federation changed after the Borg took the Cardassian Union," I said. "Starfleet changed. There was no exploration anymore—only defense. Only survival."

"Given the imminent threat of war with the Borg, I can't say I'm surprised. What's that old saying? ' _If you can't beat 'em, join 'em_.' I suppose that's what I decided to do."

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed.

Janeway sighed. "What else did you see?"

I told her about the intel Iliana and Garak had shared at that meeting. "They knew Marnah worked for Section 31. Evidently, when Gul Dukat joined the Dominion and slaughtered the Bajorans of Valo, he ordered that Marnah be captured alive. He had her brought back to Cardassian space so they could probe her mind for information. They learned about my genetic enhancements, as well as my brother's. There were a few other things they learned, but it wasn't much, so they put her into stasis. But the war went badly for them, and she was forgotten. When the Borg invaded, she was assimilated."

"So your mother is alive?"

Tuvok hissed.

Janeway's eyes flicked to him. "Tuvok? Are—"

His strained voice cut her off before she could ask after his well-being. "I apologize, Captain, for the outburst."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was feeling my pain at the thought of Cardassian torturers carving up Marnah's brain with lasers at that very moment. I took an unsteady breath and pushed the thought aside. "Yes. She is alive and in the custody of the Dominion. If this future comes to fruition, the Borg will know all she knows. They will turn her into a weapon to bring the last remaining Borg faction to heel under the queen."

Janeway frowned. "Which queen?"

"The one Annika knew from Unimatrix Zero, the El-Aurian named Loran. The next vision I saw—the first one Tuvok experienced—placed me in Annika's head. She was in Loran's custody."

"Is she there now?"

"No. Right now, she's somewhere working with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion. But the rebellion won't succeed. A few years from now, Loran will capture Annika and destroy the last remnants of the rebellion. She'll use Annika's knowledge to assimilate all the rival Borg factions into her own. Then she'll use Annika against us."

Janeway looked away for a moment, silently absorbing the weight of my words.

"Captain," I added, "Loran is a predator. She lied to everyone in Unimatrix Zero about who she is. She has abused Annika in more ways than one, and she will abuse her again if we don't get to Annika first."

Janeway frowned, returning her gaze to me. "A Borg who can lie, manipulate, and wield absolute power over the collective mind? How is that even possible?"

"I don't know. I didn't see how it worked, and evidently all my experience and research into Borg psychology in the future couldn't explain it, either. But I think that I might be at least partially responsible for her coming to power."

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Because I was designed to be a weapon against the Borg."

Janeway's eyes bulged. "I beg your pardon?"

"By Section 31," I clarified. "After El-Aurian refugees brought stories of the Borg with them to the Federation, Section 31 designed a bioweapon—a genetic modification that would infect the entire collective and disrupt their neural link. What we saw on that sphere after the virus was released? That's what would have happened to all of the Borg."

"But when it was combined with Iliana's virus for splitting Unimatrix Zero drones from the rest of the collective," she said, "it split the entire Borg collective into pieces."

"Right. But things didn't work out like anyone thought they would. And now I can no longer be an effective weapon because all of the Borg factions are familiar with my DNA and have been able to adapt. Whoever did this acted too soon."

Janeway sighed. "We need to find out who modified those nanoprobes."

Tuvok spoke up. "During the meeting in which intel regarding General Eelo was discussed, it was stated that Captain Michael Thomas Paris was responsible for recruiting her into Section 31. Perhaps clandestine activity, much like formal Starfleet service, is a Paris family affair."

I frowned, a sick feeling bubbling up inside of me. For the first time since the meld, I couldn't entirely suppress it. "You think Tom is involved in this?"

Tuvok seemed to sit up straighter, as if the effects of the meld were beginning to wane. "Mister Paris does have access to sickbay, and he is unusually adept at medical practice for a flight control technician—above and beyond even his medic training. Additionally, if you will recall, it was Mister Paris who diverted us from our course to examine the strange readings put off by the gravitational anomaly."

The sick feeling in my stomach swelled. I shook my head. "No. No way did he take us there on purpose. That's completely ridiculous."

"I understand your skepticism, Miss Eelo," Tuvok said. "However, I believe it is a possibility that we cannot afford to overlook."

"I agree," said Janeway. "We'll meet again tomorrow and have Mister Paris join us for questioning. For now, I recommend that you both get some sleep."

Tuvok nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"Captain," I said, forcing my mind away from the strange turn towards Tom and back onto the bigger picture, "you understand that our endgame has to change now, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't just stay on our course towards home and let this war resolve itself. If we do, the Borg will win. Then they'll bring war to the Federation and, eventually, win that one, too."

Janeway sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "And what do you suggest that we do about it?"

"Find Annika and help Unimatrix Zero win."

Dropping her hand to the side, Janeway flashed me an agonized look. "Did Alixia or your Emissary tell you this?"

I shook my head. "They didn't have to."

Her eyes slid sideways. "And you, Tuvok? What do you think about this?"

"I also got that impression from the final vision. However, I think it would be wise to avoid making too hasty a decision on this matter."

Janeway considered us for a moment, then sighed and dipped her head. "Get some sleep—both of you. We'll discuss it further in the morning."

* * *

I did not sleep well.

Every so often, when I did manage to lose consciousness, my overactive mind would bring up horrifying images. I'd see Marnah's assimilated corpse on a biobed, Loran's teeth stained with Annika's blood, a thousand Borg ships swarming Bajor, and Tom steering our doomed shuttle into the gravity sinkwell despite my pleas for a return to _Voyager_.

Needless to say, it was a very long night.

The next day's senior staff briefing was postponed until after our meeting with Tom. Captain Janeway, Tuvok, Tom and I sat clustered around the head of the table, and Janeway locked down the room so thoroughly that only a red alert could have interrupted us.

Tuvok and I had both returned to our normal, pre-meld, selves. He sat straight and still, his expression neutral. I felt like I would rather jump out of my skin and disappear through the nearest airlock rather than have to face the possibility of betrayal from my longtime best friend.

Tom glanced from one person to the next as he shifted nervously in his chair. His eyes lingered on me, and he gave a questioning look.

I turned decisively towards the captain.

Thankfully, she took the hint. "Mister Paris, I have asked you here this morning so that we might discuss a matter of upmost urgency. It is imperative that you answer honestly, regardless of what any other authority may have ordered you to do." Leaning forward, she fixed him with a firm, narrow-eyed glare. "Not only is this a matter of _Voyager's_ security, but the survival of the Federation, and perhaps the entire galaxy."

Tom's eyes went wide. "Captain?"

"What do you know about Section 31?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the skin of his throat. For a long, drawn-out moment, he didn't reply, nor did he break the captain's gaze. Finally, he licked his lips and huffed a laugh. "Galactic security, huh?"

"Perhaps," Janeway said, her tone entirely devoid of the levity Tom had forced into his.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "You're not sure?"

"If Lieutenant Commander Eelo's Prophet-friend is to be believed, then yes, that's exactly what is at stake. But I haven't quite made up my mind yet."

His eyes slid over to me. "What do you know?"

"You first."

The ice in my voice seemed to shatter his flippant attitude. He glanced from me to Janeway and Tuvok, then ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. "Shit."

"What do you know, Tom?" Janeway prodded.

"Honestly? Not much." When Janeway twitched an eyebrow in response, Tom threw up his hands. "It's true. I was only ever on the fringes. She never told me anything."

"To what ' _she_ ' are you referring?" Tuvok asked.

Again, he looked at me—this time with an expression of apology. "My handler, Eelo Fayeni."

"When were you recruited into Section 31?"

Tom's eyes went to Tuvok. "That's gonna take some explaining."

Janeway folded her hands on the table. "We're listening."

He hung his head and sighed. The room fell into uncomfortable silence for several seconds before he relented. "Alright." When he looked up, he looked Janeway in the eyes. "In high school, I was introduced to a little drug we called 'snick.'"

"Snick?" Tuvok asked.

"Cylestamine," I said. "The kids at academy prep used to call it 'snick' because of the sound the vial made when inserted into a hypospray."

"I see."

Tom pressed onward. "Anyway, I developed a bit of a problem. My parents didn't know anything until after Tal convinced me to get help." He scoffed. "Dad was furious. After that, I just about moved in with Tal's family—at least until he cooled down. Treatment worked like a charm, and I managed to stay mostly clean through the academy. I didn't touch it after I graduated. I thought it was behind me.

"After I was discharged from Starfleet, I took the first transport out of Sol system. I didn't care where I was going, just as long as no one could find me. Wasn't long before I found some snick, and I—" He looked down at his hands. "It destroyed what little was left of my life. Within a year, I had a bounty on my head for all the debts I racked up and couldn't pay. I tried to disappear, but then some hulking Bajoran guys picked me up on Neethia and brought me to Tal's mom."

"What did General Eelo tell you about Section 31?" Tuvok asked.

Tom looked up. "Nothing at that point. It wouldn't have mattered if she did, cuz by the time I got there I was sick from withdrawal. She gave me a stash and said if I did everything she told me to, she'd take care of me. So I did. I showed face in the Maquis camps, tested with their highest-ranking pilot, crashed parties, fucked around, picked fights, and made sure everyone knew my name. Exactly as she said.

"After about a week or so, a bounty hunter came looking for me. Found me on the come-down from a dose. I didn't have the energy to fight back, but Eelo stopped him. Killed him right in front of me. Then she put me on a raider and flew us out of the Badlands."

I frowned. "Why didn't I know about any of this?"

"You were out on a mission, and no one else noticed the hunter. I was..." Tom swallowed hard. "I was strung out behind your bunkhouse, but of course no one was there. Didn't your mom tell you anything?"

Anger heated my muscles. I squeezed my hands into fists and shook my head. "No. She didn't. I thought you just left, like you did after Caldik."

He winced.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Janeway said, "Go on, Tom."

He nodded. "On the raider, Eelo told me she was an operative for some secret agency, though she didn't give me a name. Said I had potential, but I needed to prove myself. Hard to do with bounty hunters on my tail and a drug problem. But she said if I laid low, got myself off snick, and gave her agency what they needed, I'd get money to pay off my debts and opportunities with her agency that I couldn't have dreamed of in the fleet.

"I jumped at it, of course. A chance to pay off my debts, stay out of prison, and be a pilot again? No way I was turning that down. Only..." he looked down at the table. "The place she took me was a pleasure house in the Orion district on Qo'nos."

My stomach turned.

"She slipped a databank into my pocket and dragged me in there as if she'd caught me on the run. Told them I owed her a lot of money but I was too pretty to go to jail, so I was gonna work it off there. I didn't really wanna do it, but at that point I wasn't exactly in a position to argue. They gave me a job, food to eat, less-harmful drugs to keep withdrawl at bay, and a room to work and sleep in. So I did it. And every time one of her people came around, I gave them all the intelligence I could."

His confession was like taking a hard punch to the gut. The air seemed to get sucked right out of me. Breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. Even after Caldik Prime, after he ran away without saying goodbye, I would have let the whole Federation turn to ashes rather than use Tom's weaknesses against him or exploit him like that for any cause. But Marnah was a kind of ruthless that I would never be.

A kind I never wanted to be.

"I stayed at the pleasure house gathering intel for months," Tom continued. "One of my most interesting clients was a Betazoid woman named Syrenna, who was clearly hiding something important, but I couldn't figure out what. When she found out I used to be a pilot, she offered me a ship. Evidently, her husband had a shipping business, and he needed good pilots who could outrun raiding parties along the Cardassian border. I told her I was the man for the job, so she took me to meet her husband.

"When I saw the guy, I couldn't believe my eyes. He used to be my grandpa Mike's aide way back when I was a kid. He was much older, of course, but still, it was a weird coincidence. Except that it wasn't actually a coincidence. The guy's name was Luther Sloane, and he said he worked for Section 31. So did his wife, but she wasn't _really_ his wife. The piloting job was just a cover. What they really wanted was for me to pass them information on Eelo and the Maquis."

Janeway frowned. "Did they tell you why?"

"Only that they thought she might've had divided loyalties, and they wanted a non-Bajoran keeping an eye on her."

She turned to Tuvok, who offered a look of mild surprise.

"Not too long after that, Eelo sent Seska to bring me back into direct involvement with the Maquis, using my ship to run supplies."

I held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If you were working separately for two operatives of Section 31, why did they let you get arrested by Starfleet?"

Tom shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Like I said, they didn't tell me anything. I was just a messenger. If I had to guess, though—" He paused.

"What?"

His eyes softened. "Your mom might have suspected I was spying on her, but lately I've started to think that was only part of the reason. She knew—" He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "She always knew how I felt about you, Tal. But she also knew I was a fuckboy, and she knew you weren't ready to settle down to be the Eelo _tahl'ral_ yet, so she didn't bother to intervene... until that night, when you visited me on my cargo ship."

With his admission, a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. I thought about how Marnah had questioned my affection for Tom the very next day. How suddenly she had cut Seska from her inner circle after learning that Seska left Tom for Chakotay. How she had thrust me at Chakotay, knowing how competitive I could get around Seska. She'd been manipulating all of them just to manipulate me.

"She did it to split us up," I murmured.

Tom nodded. "I think so."

"Because I was supposed to be the future of the Eelo house. Because your Sloane guy was right—her loyalties _were_ divided between serving the Federation and restoring glory to Bajor."

"Yeah."

For a moment, no one spoke, allowing our new realization some time to sink into our minds.

Tom broke the silence, stretching his hands towards me. "Tal, I'm so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me for all of this?"

The sound of his pleading voice snapped me from the haze of epiphany. As I looked at him, the question that had kept me up all night slammed into my mind, sending a hot jolt of anger through me. "The gravitational anomaly. Why did you redirect our course for background subspace fluctuations?"

Tom's face drained of color. He shook his head—slowly at first, but then more quickly. "N-no. Tal, no. I didn't—"

My eyes filled with tears. "I was at _ops_ , Tom, and I didn't see it. How did you know it was there? And why did you even give a shit?"

He ground his teeth to stifle a sob, but he couldn't stop the moisture welling up in his own eyes. He looked like he was in physical pain. "I didn't—"

Slapping the table with my palm, I stood and leaned over it so that my face was level with his. "Why, Tom? Why did you take us there?"

"Commander," Janeway warned.

"Did you mean for me to be hurt so you could turn me into a weapon?"

Tuvok grabbed my arms, pulling me away from the table.

"Did you tell Annika how to use me against the Borg?"

"Commander Eelo!"

I both heard and felt Tuvok's voice, snapping me out of fight mode and shunting energy into higher parts of my brain. At the same time, he sent waves of calm through his _katra_ like a cooling balm on my hot emotions. Suddenly, I realized that Tom was crying, and then I started to do the same. "I'm sorry," I choked out. "Tom, I'm sorry."

It took Tom several seconds to regain the ability to speak. "It wasn't my idea. I promise. I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Tom," Janeway said, "whose idea was it?"

He glanced around at each of us, looking hesitant to snitch on someone else. When his eyes came back to me, he relented. "Jenny Delaney. She found the readings using the astrometrics sensor array and ordered me to detour from our return course so I could get her some better data. I didn't know why, or what it was. I swear, Tal, I didn't know. If I had, I never would have... Please believe me."

As I sank back into my seat, I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve and nodded. "I do. I believe you."

"Ensign Delaney _ordered_ you to examine the anomaly?" Tuvok asked.

"She's an agent," Tom said. "In 31, she outranks me."

"I think that the both of you should take the rest of the day off," Janeway said. "Get some rest, go to the holodeck, do whatever you need to do to process this. Obviously, I cannot allow you to share this information with anyone outside of this room. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Tom and I replied.

She nodded. "Good. Dismissed."


	9. Lost the Battle, Win the War

**Lost the Battle, Win the War**

 _Source Episodes: VOY 7x25 Endgame, 5x3 Extreme Risk_

 _CW: Discussions of emotional and sexual abuse, exploitation, and substance use._

* * *

After leaving the briefing room, Tom stopped me in the corridor and asked to talk. I knew we needed to discuss what I had just learned about Tom and Marnah, but I was emotionally drained and needed some time alone to think. I told him to come by my quarters after lunch.

The door chimed at exactly 1300 hours.

Tom was definitely nervous, but he was also determined to get answers. "How did you know?"

"For the last week, I've been receiving visions from Alixia. She's been giving me glimpses into our possible future—a future we will have if we keep heading for home instead of helping to fight this war against the Borg. It's—" I paused. "It's not good."

"And these visions showed you that I was involved with Section 31?"

I shook my head. "No. It was... something else. Something implied. It's complicated, and I'm not sure how much Captain Janeway would want me sharing with you."

"I see," he said with a nod, though his tone implied something else.

"I didn't know," I said, grabbing his hands. "I swear, I didn't know any of it. I had no idea what..." I bit my lip.

"What I did?"

"What Marnah did. What she made you do." Tears filled my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Tom. You asked if I could forgive you, but there's nothing to forgive. She knew about your substance use disorder and she used it against you. She manipulated you, mislead you, and exploited you. You can't hold any of that against yourself."

He wrenched his hands from mine, throwing them out to either side as he let loose a sound that was somewhere between a yell and a sob. "How can I not? I let it happen! I put myself in that position. I took the drugs, I did the work, and I lied to you for years! I took my orders and changed course to the gravity well without question, and I lied about that, too. I would have taken all of it to my grave if it weren't for this. I could have stopped it at any point—said no, talked to you—but I didn't. What kind of a friend does that? How could it _not_ be my fault?"

"You said it yourself. You were just the messenger. You had no power, no influence. You've done what you had to do to keep going forward—to survive. Marnah _chose_ to use you—to force you into doing something you wouldn't otherwise do. That's on her. Section 31 has chosen to use you, too. They don't need you, but they still make you play their games because they know they can benefit from it, and they know you stand to lose if you fight back. None of that is your fault, Tom. Do you hear me?" I stepped closer and cupped his face in my hands. " _None_ of it was your fault."

His face crumpled like a bateret leaf in a flame. Choked sobs escaped his lips, and his chest heaved with the effort of gasping in air. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I drew him close, nestling his face against my shoulder as I held him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a long while until he cried himself out.

When he finally calmed down, I guided him to my couch and helped him sit. Then, without a word, I crossed to the replicator to get him some water. We let the silence linger between us for several minutes, until Tom finished his water and stood.

"I'm going back to my quarters," he said wearily.

I stood, too. "Okay."

He met my gaze and hesitated, as if unsure of how to leave things between us. I couldn't help but think that he looked like a lost little child, and I almost started to cry for the shards of youthful innocence that still lingered in his own soul. Every time he found one and picked it up, hoping to reclaim something of the boy he never got to be, it just seemed to cut him even deeper. It wasn't fair. He deserved so much better.

"No matter what happens," I said, "you'll always be my family. Nothing can change that. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," he murmured. "So will you." Setting the empty glass on the coffee table, he trudged out of the room.

* * *

It wasn't until the next morning that Captain Janeway made up her mind on the matter of whether or not _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ would play a role in the war against the Borg. That morning, the briefing room was filled with _Voyager's_ senior officers, plus Elentia and Captain Ransom. At the sight of our guests, I knew right away what Janeway's decision would be.

But first, they deserved an explanation.

Everyone had a million questions for me, which Tuvok helped to answer. We left out any mentions of Section 31, of course—that was classified. We also stopped short of revealing the identity of the Prophet. Given that Captain Sisko was still—in our time—a physical presence in the Alpha Quadrant, we thought it was best to keep that to ourselves. But I told them everything else I saw, and what the Prophet had said to convince me that finding Annika was of upmost importance. Naturally, there was a lot of skepticism, but at least everyone agreed that defeating the Borg was in the best interests of everyone. In fact, all of _Voyager's_ senior officers were enthusiastically supportive of taking up the fight against the Borg, even if it meant delaying our trip home.

"For a lot of us," Harry said at one point, "getting home is what we've wanted more than almost anything. But when I think about all that we've been through together, maybe it's not the destination that matters. Maybe it's the journey. And if that journey takes a little longer so we can do something we all believe in, I can't think of any place I'd rather be, or any people I'd rather be with."

"Hear, hear," said Tom.

Ransom was none too happy about the situation—too many variables, too much risk, and a lot riding on the word of a Bajoran deity and a woman he'd never met. After making his dissent known, however, he accepted Janeway's orders like the soldier he was determined to be.

Elentia, on the other hand, was extremely pleased. She'd hoped for such an outcome, and she confessed that it was part of why she came to _Voyager_ despite the trip taking her so far away from her wife. We were already scheduled to make a short stopover at a small Zahl station in two days where Elentia and Sinta had planned to leave us, so the timing was quite convenient. She agreed to coordinate our entry into the war with the other allied forces and promised to help us in our quest to track down Annika.

With that out of the way, Janeway dismissed Ransom and Elentia from the room so that the rest of us could get on with our usual staff meeting. After checking in with each of us on divisional and departmental updates, Harry spoke up about another matter—shuttles.

With the losses of _Drake_ in the gravity well and _Cochrane_ in the Borg sphere heist, we were down to only one shuttle— _Tereshkova_. She was a nice little type eight, and still in top order, but we would definitely need more than just her and Neelix's ship to get around. Tom had been itching to build a shuttle from scratch for years, but we never really needed it before, so it wasn't a priority. It surprised me a bit that Tom hadn't already been pressing for it, but he hadn't acted much like himself ever since we got back from the gravity well.

Neither of us had, really.

I had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was pressing for it now as a way to force himself, Tom, B'Elanna, and me to work together. He probably hoped that it would revive our friendship. Maybe it would. Either way, he was absolutely right that we needed more shuttles.

When Harry broached the topic, Janeway's eyes went to Tom. "May I presume that you would support this endeavor, Mister Paris?"

He shrugged. "We've needed something bigger and better since we got to the Delta Quadrant. It's time we built it."

"Any ideas for the shuttle's design?" Chakotay asked.

"A few," Harry said with a smile.

"Actually," B'Elanna said, "I was just telling Harry yesterday about that multispacial probe Tuvok, Annika, and I designed a few months ago. I think I could modify the shielding to work for a shuttle."

"Using Borg-inspired shielding as we prepare to go to war with the Borg," Chakotay observed.

Janeway grinned. "It has a certain poetry to it, don't you think?"

"It does," he agreed, smiling back.

There hadn't been much levity among any of the senior staff since losing Annika. Even after learning of her survival, the general attitude had remained unusually grim. Everything had begun to seem rote at best or grating at worst. We were all getting tired of _Voyager_ , tired of our isolation in the Delta Quadrant, and tired of our increasingly abstract goal of getting home.

Yet it seemed that having a cause to unite over had renewed everyone's energy almost instantly. The excitement in the room was palpable, and the optimism was contagious. Between Janeway's decision to take a stand against the Borg and the opportunity to design a new shuttle, our crew was pulling together for the sake of this purpose we had found within our exile.

Harry's words from a few minutes before replayed in my head. " _Maybe it's not the destination that matters—maybe it's the journey_." I glanced at him and found that he was smiling, too. Of course he was. Harry reminded us of who we were.

"Does this mean I finally get a 'yes' for building my shuttle?" Tom asked, still hesitating to let himself get too excited.

Tuvok ticked an eyebrow. " _Your_ shuttle?"

Tom huffed. "You know what I mean."

"You mean that nobody else will be allowed to fly your baby around once it's been built," B'Elanna teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ other people will fly it. Just, you know... carefully."

Janeway chuckled. "Alright, you've convinced me. Get to work on a design. I want a draft on my desk by the end of next week."

Tom smiled. "Yes, ma'am."


	10. Waking from the Dead

**Waking from the Dead**

* * *

For the next two days, we were all rather focused on preparing ourselves and our ships for joining the war effort against the Borg. Captain Janeway was confident that all she'd have to tell Starfleet Command was that we had an opportunity to take down the Borg, and they'd approve. It would be a while before we could tell them, and even longer to get their reply, but in the meantime we could at least offer aid.

To the Unity forces, however, we were already one of them.

Many of the allies owed their entry into the war, at least in part, to us—Unimatrix Zero, the Unity One Co-op, the Sakari, the Zahl, the B'omar. It was strange and a bit surreal to think of just how much _Voyager_ had impacted the Delta Quadrant, whether unwittingly or on purpose. Yet none of us could have predicted how important our first contacts with these peoples would ultimately be.

And nothing brought people together quite like a common enemy.

I kept myself busy enough to avoid getting pulled into Harry's shuttle project. "Flying is just a hobby for me," I said when he pressed me about it. "You're better off with real flyers, like Tom."

The truth was that I simply couldn't face Tom yet. Did he see Marnah when he looked at me? Was I stained by her sins? Had I become the monster she made me to be?

I did manage to get one last session in with Sinta before he left. Talking to him about my dreams, the Prophet, the puzzle pieces I was trying to put together—it really did help. Janeway even gave me permission to share some of the things I learned about my mother, and he helped me process how hard it was for me to integrate that knowledge with the woman I thought I knew.

I also explained the _katra_ -connection I shared with Tuvok. Sinta was a bit concerned at first—understandable, given that Vulcan philosophy was ostensibly about suppressing emotions and mental health professionals tended to promote the opposite.

"You're right," I said when he voiced his concerns, "most Vulcans do embrace the suppression or purging of emotions as a way to control them. But many who work with different species are also aware of the fact that Vulcan emotions function quite differently from those of other peoples, and Vulcans familiar with xenopsychology don't encourage emotional suppression in other races. It's hard for them to argue with centuries of research."

"Is Lieutenant Commander Tuvok familiar with xenopsychology?" Sinta asked.

"Familiar enough."

He considered this for a moment, amber eyes narrowing. Most likely, he was trying to feel out my emotions. "I'm sensing anxiety and resistance relating to the topic of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and your telepathic bond," he finally said. "Can you tell me about that?"

I fidgeted with my hands. "I don't like being exposed."

"Tell me more about that."

"It's just..." My thumb circled the scar at the center of my other palm. "I don't like people in my head. That's my space, you know? It's not for anyone else to access."

"You allowed me into your mind the last time we worked together."

I shook my head. "That's different."

"How so?"

"It..." No other words came. My mind was a blank. It hadn't bothered me to let Sinta in back then, and I'd barely known him. So why did being bonded to Tuvok make me anxious? "I don't know."

"Would it make you uncomfortable to connect with me telepathically again?"

"That depends," I said. "What kind of exchange would this be?"

"Perhaps we could try the somatic exercise we used to do. Would that be alright?"

"That's fine," I said, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.

Sinta leaned forward, as well, reaching for my left ear. I closed my eyes and focused on the feelings his touch aroused—the sense that my _pagh_ was reaching for connection to his.

"Your people may not be known as telepaths," he said, "but the belief in soul-connection through the left ear is too prevalent to ignore. You have the building blocks of telepathy—as, I suspect, most humanoids do. Breathe."

Obediently, I breathed as deeply as I could, then exhahaled long and slow.

"Your _pagh_ was strong before, but it is even stronger now. Breathe."

Again, I did as he asked.

"What do you feel in your body right now?"

I took a moment before answering, mentally scanning my body and allowing myself to notice all sensations. "My chest is tight, and it takes effort to breathe deeply. I think my heart rate might be a bit high, but it's not pounding. My shoulders and neck—the muscles are tight there, too. My fingers and toes are a bit cold and slightly tingly."

He waited a bit to allow for more observations. When I made none, he asked, "If you were to name an emotion that might go along with what you feel in your body, what would that emotion be?"

"Anxiety," I said. "Like you said."

"Is that the source of your resistance to a telepathic connection with me?"

But it was wrong—the emotion I had named. I shook my head, eyes still closed. "No, it's not anxiety. It's fear."

"Fear of what?"

"Of being a monster," I said without thinking. My mind repeated the word, taunting me. _Monster, monster, monster..._

Then, for a moment, there was nothing.

"Talia? Are you with me?"

My eyes snapped open and I gasped as if I'd just been nudged awake after nodding off. But I hadn't fallen asleep. I'd dissociated.

"Breathe," Sinta said.

I did as he asked.

Then, he released my ear. "If you don't mind, would you sit back?"

I pressed myself into the soft cushion of the loveseat behind me.

"Go ahead and place one hand on your forehead and the other over your heart." Once I did as he instructed, he added, "Breathe," counting to four to time my inhale and ten for my exhale. This we repeated several times over.

"How do you feel in your body now?"

My eyes had fallen closed during the breathing exercise, and I let them remain closed as I scanned my body once again. "Not so tense. My heart is back to baseline. I can breathe easier. My hands are warm. I feel... okay. I'm okay."

"Go ahead and release your hands."

When I opened my eyes and let my hands fall into my lap, I saw a gentle smile cross Sinta's face.

"You said that you were afraid of being a monster," he said. "Now that you are feeling more secure in your body, do you still agree with that statement?"

My mind seemed to be more steady and clear. "Yes."

"What did you mean by that?"

"I don't want to be like my mother. I don't want to be ruthless, to use people, manipulate people. But I never recognized her for what she was. What if I can't see it in myself? I've manipulated people. Used people. Even killed people. What if I'm a monster, too?"

Sinta sat back, crossing one knee over the other. "Ruthlessness. Manipulation. Using others for selfish gain. Are these examples of behavior you think of as monstrous?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"But not always?"

I paused to think about my answer. "It can depend on the reasons behind doing them. Sometimes, we have bad days and do things we wish we hadn't. Sometimes, bad things are necessary for a greater good. I'm sure my mother thought her actions were a means to a better end, and that they were worth it because of what the Federation and Bajor stood to gain."

"What do you think?"

I looked him squarely in the eyes. "Exploiting someone's mental illness and selling them into sexual servitude is _never_ worth any outcome, no matter what."

"Alright, so acting a little antisocial in certain situations may not qualify as monstrous, but certain acts do cross the line."

"Right."

He nodded and stroked his chin. "These are behaviors, though, and as you said, behavior can often be tricky to judge apart from its context. I wonder if there are any deeper characteristics that you think of as monstrous?"

The image of Marnah as a drone flashed through my mind, followed by Loran's bloody smile. "Coercion," I murmured. "Consistent patterns of seeing other people as props, refusing to think of them as people just like us, using threats or power imbalances to make them act how we want them to—regardless of how it might affect them—and never being sorry for it." I met his eyes again. "That's monstrous."

"By that standard, do you think you are a monster, Talia?"

I thought of all the horrible things I had done through the years—the Cardassian boy I killed at Korma, the thousands of people who had died because of my assistance in the Maquis and Zahl rebellions, the murderous thoughts I'd had about Seska just before we pulled her from that small Kazon shuttle, the lovers I'd used and cast aside like Tom and Chakotay, the way I broke Harry's heart when I cast him aside, too. I thought of all the times I labeled myself as a monster, and how learning about modified nanoprobes and genetic enhancements had only cemented that belief.

But Sinta's question was valid. Was any of that truly monstrous? I thought about my definition, whether or not it was accurate, and how it compared to the evidence I had used to judge myself.

Then, like a black veil pulled back from my face, I recognized my own cognitive distortion for what it was—a lie I had told myself to explain the bad things I had done, and which I adapted to make sense of bad things that were done to me. The more I thought about that, the more clear the reality was.

And the more free I felt.

I smiled and blinked back tears. "No, I'm not a monster. I'm just another fucked-up human being."

Sinta grinned. "Not so unlike the rest of us."

"No, I guess not."

* * *

The next day, _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ docked at the Zahl station, and I said my good-byes to Elentia and Sinta. Admittedly, I felt a bit lost as I watched them both step onto that transporter pad and dematerialize in a blue beam of light. Sure, I'd had a breakthrough in my session with Sinta, but where was I supposed to go from there? And who else could so easily understand me the way Elentia did?

Almost as soon as I left the transporter room, Chakotay commed, asking me to report to his office.

"Have a seat," he said when I got there, and I did as he asked. "I'm working on duty rosters, and I wanted to discuss some changes I've made to your schedule." He spun the computer console around to face me.

As I examined the roster, I felt my face cinching into a frown. He had me listed for personal training with him on the holodeck every day the next week. "What's with all the sims?"

"I want to train you to be ready to face the Borg."

"Just me?"

"These will be private sessions, yes."

"Why? Do you think I'm less ready than everyone else?"

"The last time you boarded a Borg ship—"

"I did my fucking job," I said, leaning as close to Chakotay as the desk would allow. My heart was pounding, heating up my muscles. "I did my job, and half of Annika's, and I did it with two holes in my chest."

"You did," he said with a nod. "But I've been refreshing my memory on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and—"

"That's what this is about? You think I can't perform because of my trauma?"

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have! For fuck's sake—"

"Talia—"

"I am _sick_ of being treated like a porcelain doll! It's bad enough that I have Harry and the doc hovering over me, and the captain worrying that she'll say something to break me. But you? Tay, of all people, I thought you'd be on my side! You _know_ I can handle this. You've seen me pull missions in way worse shape. How can you—"

Chakotay put up a hand. "Talia, listen to me. I'm not questioning whether or not you can handle any mission. I don't think you're weak. I'm on your side. Can you trust me enough to listen to what I have to say? Or do I need to bust your ass for being a disrespectful little shit?"

I huffed, deflating a bit at his candor, then nodded.

"I get it. As I was reading, I could relate to a lot of it—the flashbacks, the irritability, the constant alertness for any possible threat. I used to feel like that all the time. Sometimes, I still do. You went above and beyond your duty on that heist mission. I'm not questioning that.

"But now that we're going to war with the Borg, you're one of our best assets. I don't want you gritting your teeth and fighting a battle in your mind while you carry out whatever missions we put you on—not because I don't think you can do it, but because, frankly, it's a waste of a great human resource. So, I'm going to drill you until you can walk onto a Borg ship with no distractions in that genetically-enhanced brain of yours put all of your mental energy into the real battle in front of you. Understand?"

His words were like a cold-water shower. "You know?"

He nodded. "Kathryn and Tuvok briefed me yesterday."

I took a few breaths, forcing myself to calm down and take in everything he had said. It wasn't a threat—not to my ego, my service, or my position. It was good. Smart. After a few drawn-out seconds of silence, I nodded. "Okay. I'll have to rearrange some of my appointments, but I can do it."

He nodded. "Good. Dismissed."

* * *

"I lost it on Chakotay today," I admitted to Harry over dinner in the mess hall that evening. I wasn't sure what sort of reaction to expect from him, but I followed the impulse to tell him anyway.

A slight smile curved his lips. "That must have been an interesting meeting."

I huffed a laugh, but before I could say more, another voice cut in.

"Who hasn't lost it on Chakotay at some point?" B'Elanna quipped as she slid into the seat beside me. Setting her tray on the table, she nudged my shoulder with hers. "Can't be any worse than I've done."

"Don't you dare go stealing my thunder now," came Tom's voice.

Startled, I looked up as he took the seat beside Harry.

He gave me an impish grin. "I'm pretty sure I still hold the record for losing it on Chakotay."

It was as if I had slipped into some parallel universe where nothing bad had happened between the four of us, but I couldn't figure out where my reality had shifted. Part of me expected B'Elanna to snap back at Tom—to hear them fall into the flirtatious banter that used to color so many of our times together. Instead, all three of my companions stopped and watched me, conspiratorial half-smiles pulling at their faces.

I frowned. "What's going on?"

"We want you to help us with the shuttle project," Harry said.

"Harry told us all about how you've been making bullshit excuses," B'Elanna added, "but we're not gonna let you get away with it anymore."

"But—" I panted and licked my lips. "But what about—" I waved my hands, gesturing around the table at the four of us as I scrambled for words that wouldn't come— "this?"

"What, our relationship drama?" B'Elanna asked. "As much fun as that was, I'm over it."

When I met her dark eyes, I found a sincerity that added nuance to the levity of her tone.

"Me, too," said Tom, his own eyes full of apology.

"Me, too," Harry added for good measure, although he had never been part of the problem.

"So, what," I asked, "are we all just going to forget everything that happened?" A lump formed in my throat, and I gulped it down. "Everything I did?"

"You act like it was all just _your_ fault," Tom mumbled.

"It's over," B'Elanna said firmly. "We've talked about it already—took up an entire goddamn meeting when we should have been working on design specs—but we did, and we all want to move past it."

Harry took my hands into his. "What do you say? Are you with us?"

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and it wasn't worth the effort anyway, so I let them fall as I studied every single face around the table. There was no deception in them, no trickery. That was their truth. "Can it really be this easy?"

B'Elanna scoffed. "Easy?"

"It's not easy," Tom said, "but neither is life out here at the ass-end of the galaxy. And things are about to get even harder. Maybe it's better if we just accept that we need each other's friendship."

"Friendship," I repeated.

"Yeah," Tom said. "Friendship. You know, that thing that's not quite family, but is maybe even better?"

A blubbering sort of laughter came out of my mouth, bringing even more tears. It was a little embarrassing to think about how I was literally sobbing in the middle of the mess hall, but what did it matter in comparison to getting my friends back?

"So," B'Elanna said, "are you gonna help us with that shuttle, or what?"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes." With a few decisive sniffles to get a grip on my emotions, I wiped my eyes, lifted my chin, and smiled. "Let's build a shuttle."


	11. Shape Fate

**Shape Fate**

* * *

Upon our arrival at the Zahl station, we found ourselves, once again, having to stop and wait. Elentia had promised to work as quickly as possible to integrate _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ into the war effort, but she couldn't give us a time frame for when to expect orders.

The delay was fine with me. It gave Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, and I more time to focus on getting our shuttle done.

It was a bit surreal how okay things were between the four of us. We worked well together, and working together made our friendship come more naturally. Harry's inclination had been right in that respect.

Just a few days into the project, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke visited the holodeck while we worked on the shuttle's design specs. Tom and I were mid-argument regarding a set of unnecessary tail fins—which Tom wanted to add for literally no good reason besides vanity—when Burke walked in. Suddenly, Tom stopped caring about tail fins and went silent.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Burke said smoothly as he sauntered over to the scale model that the rest of us were circled around. Sidling up beside B'Elanna, he threw a wink her way. "BLT."

She smiled. "Max."

"Didn't expect you to stop by," Tom said in what I knew to be his fake-friendly voice.

Burke shrugged. "I was in the area. Heard you were working on a brand new shuttle design, and I couldn't help myself."

On _Equinox_ , Burke served as both head flight control manager and first officer. He was young—just two years older than B'Elanna and Harry, and had been a third-year student during their freshman year at the academy. While there, he and B'Elanna had dated before her decision to drop out and move off-planet had split them up for good.

Every time I saw them in the same room together, he was clearly laying on the moves. B'Elanna had never reciprocated, as far as I knew, but Burke didn't quit trying.

Burke's behavior with B'Elanna drove Tom up the wall. " _He's like a really charming predator,_ " Tom told me once before our encounter with the gravity well. " _He doesn't see her as a person, but a conquest_."

Still, Tom refused to lose face in front of B'Elanna, and since he had just affirmed with Harry and me his desire to be B'Elanna's friend, he did his best to take Burke's presence at our meeting in stride.

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

Burke stroked his chin as he examined the delta-shaped model. "I like the overall look. Very sleek. It'll handle atmospheric entry well." He looked up. "You know what it's missing?"

Harry frowned. "What?"

"Dynametric tail fins on the nacelles."

His delivery was so deadpan that nearly everyone thought he was being serious. It wasn't until B'Elanna scoffed and told him to "get the fuck out of here" that the rest of us realized he was joking. He couldn't have possibly known that, only moments before, Tom and I had been arguing over that very addition. Seeing Burke's teasing smile emerge, Harry and I broke into laughter.

Then I caught Tom's eye and realized that he was most definitely _not_ amused. Instead, he looked angry and hurt.

"Do you have any _real_ suggestions, Commander?" I asked, quickly regaining my composure.

"You could fit some extra storage, or maybe a couple bunks, if you drop this—" he gestured to one side of the shuttle's hull— "all the way down to the wing. It'll change the airflow a bit, but it won't be too much to manage, and it's hard to argue against having more room when you think about long away missions."

Harry nodded. "That's a good point. What do you think, Tom?"

Tom shrugged. "Yeah, it works."

"Talia?"

As much as I hated to feed Tom's negativity, Burke was right. "I'm all for more bunk space. And if we curve the wing just right, I think it'll handle atmospheric entry even better than the current design."

Burke's combadge chirped, alerting him to the time. "Well, gotta go. Let me know if you want any more input."

"Will do," Harry said. "Thanks!"

"My pleasure." Burke winked again at B'Elanna. "Until next time, BLT."

B'Elanna shook her head and laughed. "Goodbye, Max."

As the holodeck doors closed behind Burke, Tom added, "Yeah, I think I'm done, too."

B'Elanna frowned. "What? Why?"

"I'm beat. You guys can keep at it if you want, but I'm gonna go to bed. See you tomorrow, okay?"

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, buddy."

Tom gave a weak smile. "I'll try."

I pursed my lips and sighed quietly as I watched him leave. Harry, B'Elanna and I played around with the model for another hour before calling it a night, but I kept thinking about Tom's reaction to Burke and the warnings he had made to me all those months ago. At the time, he'd still been romantically involved with B'Elanna, so I chalked it up to simple jealousy.

Burke was a good man and a great officer. As for his flirtatious nature—well, it wasn't as if I was a stranger to his type. Tom and I were once insufferable flirts, too. Burke was a young bachelor trapped in a setting with a limited number of potential partners. Who were we to judge him?

By the time I laid my head on my pillow that night, I decided to put Tom and his jealousy as far out of mind as possible.

* * *

It was another four days before the orders came in from Queen Nessav.

"A comm signal was intercepted by one of our scouts in a nebula about twenty lightyears from your position," the queen informed us in a special meeting of the senior staff.

Her long, slender face was framed by strawberry-blonde waves that had been the defining characteristic of the royal Kyana line for centuries. As she spoke, those steel-blue eyes seemed to cut across the thousands of lightyears between Kyana Prime and our little space station at the edge of the Delta Quadrant. Of course, the very same image was being projected into the _Equinox's_ briefing room, as well—we could see them watching her on our split-screen view. Still, her presence was a force of nature.

The PADD in my hands chirped, drawing my attention to its small display. A star chart was shown, mapping the location of the nebula the queen was speaking of.

"The precise location of the signal is unknown due to interference from nebula gasses," she continued.

I looked up once more to the viewscreen, finding the queen's eyes.

" _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ are, by far, the closest allied ships capable of investigating the source of this signal, as it is too dangerous for our scout to approach."

"And why is that?" Ransom asked.

"The signal carries a Borg signature."

Around our table, I heard several people shift in their seats.

"I see," Ransom said.

"Our Unimatrix Zero allies have analyzed the signal. It is a distress call, but a rather unusual one, according to them. We want you to triangulate the signal and investigate."

"And what if we determine that the situation is too dangerous for us to handle?" Ransom asked.

"There's a liberated Borg sphere fifty lightyears from the nebula which is under the command of a former Unimatrix Zero inhabitant who calls himself General Korok. His transwarp coils are under repair, but they should be up and running in a few days, and I've already ordered him on an intercept course with the nebula. If you find the source of the distress signal and determine that it is unwise for you to engage them, you are to exit the nebula and wait for a comm signal containing the code that is listed in your briefing notes. That will be General Korok. He will contact you, and you may decide together how to proceed."

I thought back to the very first time Annika told me about Unimatrix Zero and all of the species she'd mentioned being there. General Korok sounded like a Klingon name and rank. Who had he left behind when the Borg took him? Did they think he died honorably in battle, or did they believe him to be dishonored by the captivity of assimilation?

"Very well, your grace," Janeway said. "We'll proceed to the nebula immediately."

Queen Nessav bowed her head, and I couldn't help but smile at the indication that she had begun taking on some of Elentia's mannerisms. "Thank you, Captain Janeway, Captain Ransom. Shape fate." With that, her transmission ended, leaving only _Equnox's_ briefing room on our viewscreen.

"Shape fate?" Ransom repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a Krenim idiom," Chakotay said.

Swiveling my chair around, I found an amused smile on his face.

"It's used somewhat like our own phrase, ' _good luck,_ '" he continued, "but it comes from the Krenim belief that the ultimate success is to secure one's existence in all timelines, making themselves a sort of inescapable quantum reality."

"The point where volition becomes destiny," I said.

His dark eyes met mine. "Exactly."

" _Space and time and thought are not the separate things you believe them to be, Eelo_ ," Q had once said to me. Things that we believed to be fundamentally different were all still connected. The Krenim had studied and mapped space-time, believing that free will and destiny were not actually the opposites they appeared to be. Were they right?

I'd spent my whole life wrestling with the destiny Marnah set before me, rebelling and trying to find a way to assert my own free will without betraying her expectations entirely. Could I hold both halves of myself together at the same time? Did loyalty to the family I was born into necessarily oppose loyalty to the family I had chosen on _Voyager_? Could I actively choose to shape my own fate—to make my own path like the Emissary had said?

"It'll be just inside of a week to that nebula," the captain said. She looked from Ransom to Chakotay, Tuvok, me, and the rest of the table, her blue eyes just as sharp as Queen Nessav's. "Let's make sure we're prepared."


	12. Lost in the Static

**Lost in the Static**

 _Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective_

* * *

No matter how many times Chakotay and I trained on the holodeck, being on a Borg cube still gave me the creeps.

Just as Chakotay had predicted, it wasn't that I was incapable of swallowing my fear and holding off panic during the mission, but that doing so divided my attention. Sure, I completed missions, but my critical thinking skills weren't what they could be, and I was always exhausted by the end of the sims. Until we found Annika, I was the best resource we had on the Borg. We couldn't afford for me to be scraping by in survival mode.

By the last day of training before we were due to reach the nebula, I was doing much better than I had when we began. Or, at least, so I thought.

It started going downhill when our biocloaks malfunctioned. A harsh, deafening klaxon screamed around us. Without a word, Chakotay jerked his head towards an empty corridor that would take us directly to our transport site. We crept along as quickly as we could without making noise, ducking behind conduits and into shadows any time we saw movement. We were close. So close.

Just as Chakotay cleared the corridor and walked into the open room where _Voyager_ was supposed to beam us out, a drone stepped from the shadows and shoved Chakotay against a wall, snapping the strap of his phaser rifle and casting it across the room. Without thinking, I shot the drone in the back. It went rigid and collapsed, leaving Chakotay clutching his neck and gasping for air. As I stepped into the room, I turned in a circle and looked around the area for any other signs of movement. There were none.

Then Chakotay cried out in agony.

Whipping around to face him, I saw a drone pressing him against the bulkhead with one arm while the other hand was fisted at the side of his neck, two wicked-looking assimilation tubules pumping nanoprobes into his veins. The bronze hue of his skin was already turning gray, and implants forced their way out like weeds through a cement walkway. I tried shooting the drone even though I already knew it was no us. The drone's body shield absorbed my rifle's discharge.

The Borg had adapted to my weapon's power signature.

I backed away from the drone and slapped my combadge. "Eelo to _Voyager_ , emergency beam-out!"

No reply came.

Again I slapped my combadge, but it didn't chirp in reply. My comm signal was being blocked. No one could hear me.

The drone released Chakotay and turned to come after me. I was backed into a corner, both hands clinging to a phaser rifle that would do me no good. Just as the drone reached me, I unclipped the strap, turned the rifle sideways, and shoved it upwards under the drone's chin as hard as I could. Its body flew back, and judging by the sickening _crunch_ of bones, it was dead before it hit the deck.

Then Chakotay was on me, grabbing the rifle and trying to wrest it from my hands. My stomach dropped at the sight of him—face gray, eyes hollow, skin splitting over implants that were still creeping along his face and neck.

I screamed at him, hoping desperately to reach any last remaining shred of my friend's consciousness—anything to distract him long enough for me to disable him and find a way to escape—but it was no use. His eyes were empty of all warmth, and his grip was far too strong for me to hold on much longer. I locked my elbows, keeping him as far away from me as possible, but I knew it was only a stopgap move.

Dead. I was dead. I was so fucking dead.

Chakotay gave a particularly hard pull, and I let go of the phaser rifle. He stumbled backwards multiple steps but managed to stay on his feet. Throwing the phaser rifle away from us both, he began to advance on me again. I grabbed my knife.

This wasn't real. I was on the holodeck.

"Chakotay," I said warily, "this is probably a bad time to tell you, but my knife isn't holographic. I forgot to switch it out before we started."

He continued his slow, steady, menacing walk towards me. Was he a simulation, too?

"Chakotay!" I snapped, skirting sideways around the edge of the room.

Still no response.

That's when I began to panic. If I went any further, I wouldn't be able to watch the corridor. I pressed my back against the bulkhead, just to assure myself it was there, then stepped forward again so that I would have space to throw my knife. "Please, Chakotay," I begged. "Please, don't make me hurt you. Please. Are you real?"

He was getting too close. I needed to make a decision, or I was done. On his own, Chakotay was a hard opponent to grapple with. Half-assimilated, I wouldn't stand a chance. Gritting my teeth, I threw the knife at his head. It grazed his left ear, whizzed past him, and stuck in a bulkhead across the room.

A moment later, his arm was against my throat.

The program ended.

As I watched, the Chakotay in front of me vanished, along with the entire rest of the simulation. With the Borg bulkheads gone, my knife _clanged_ to the deck.

The holodeck doors opened and an unharmed Chakotay walked in, pausing to pick up my knife as he approached me.

Terror curled through my body, squeezing my lungs and tickling my muscles. I raised my hands and took several steps back, unsure of what was real.

Chakotay dropped my knife and held up his hands. "It's alright, Talia. It's me. The sim is over. You're safe." His brown eyes were kind and warm. "You're safe."

I lowered my hands.

Again Chakotay reached for the knife, watching me carefully as he did. That time, I stood my ground. Flipping the weapon so the handle was towards me, he stood and held it out like an offering.

All at once, my dread was replaced entirely with white-hot anger. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking!" I yelled. "I could have killed you!"

"It was a hologram," he reminded me calmly. "You couldn't have hurt me."

"But I didn't know that! What the fuck are you trying to get me to do? Do you want to see if I would kill you? Do you understand what that would do to me? I can't—" I tried to inhale, but I couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. "I can't—"

"Breathe," he said. "Deep breath into your belly and out through your nose."

I did as he said and soon started to regain control.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I snapped. "Still pissed as fuck, though."

A little touch of lightness began to creep into his face. "I'm not gonna live this one down for a while, am I?"

A joke. He was trying to make a joke. Some part of my mind wanted to scream at him, while another said that I should laugh it off. I didn't know what to do.

The smile faded from Chakotay's face. Clearing his throat, he studied my knife closely. "All these years," he murmured, swiping his thumb across the small green gem embedded in the handle, "and that's the first time I've ever seen you miss."

"You should see me practice," I said, dragging myself past his stupid joke and forcing a small smile. He was only trying to help. "It's funny, actually. Marnah was always a bit superstitious about that knife, and I never took her seriously. But I can have an off day, miss every single throw I make with holographic blades, then pick up that _tagh_ and stick it right where I want on the first try." I shrugged. "Maybe it's blessed."

He offered the weapon back to me. "Then why did you miss today?"

I took the knife and turned it over in my hands. "Because I didn't want to hit you."

He smiled and settled a hand on my shoulder. "Well, as much as I appreciate that, I'm still gonna have to fail you today."

"Yeah," I mumbled, hanging my head. "I know."

* * *

Triangulating a signal in the nebula turned out to be an even taller order than we had predicted.

When our ships arrived at the nebula, Captain Janeway ordered an all-stop so we could take some sensor readings and figure out what exactly we were up against. It turned out to be protostellar—a cloud of gasses surrounding a still-forming star. Matter within the nebula, as with all protostellar nebulas, was in a high degree of flux, which explained why the scout ship hadn't been able to get a precise fix on the source of the signal.

"Comm systems will work just fine in the nebula," I informed both sets of senior officers in a special meeting, "which is why we can pick up the signal just fine. But sensors won't fare so well. Our ships will have to stay within a quarter-lightyear of each other in order to maintain a telemetry link."

"That's going to make triangulating the source of that signal a really slow process," Harry said. "We won't have time to search the entire nebula before the gasses erode our shields, and if we do find something, we won't be able to get a clear reading until we're both practically on top of it."

"I don't like the sound of that," Ransom said. "If it's a Borg ship, we'll be toast."

"A ship couldn't have survived in that nebula for more than seventy-two hours," Janeway pointed out, "which tells me that it must be some kind of a probe."

"Or the Borg version of a blackbox," Chakotay added.

"Leaving technology lying around for anyone to find?" Burke said. "That doesn't sound like something the Borg would do."

"Could it be a trap?" Tom asked.

I shook my head. "That's not the Borg's way. They must have determined that it wasn't worth the effort to recover. It hasn't self-destructed, which means that it's no longer linked into the hive mind. If they haven't sent anyone to recover it, chances are it's not anything of significant value."

"To the Borg, perhaps," Tuvok said. "However, it may yet prove valuable to us."

"I agree," said Janeway. "We need to figure out a way to boost our sensor range so we can track it down and drag it out in less than seventy-two hours."

"What about the _Flyer_?" Harry asked.

Janeway cocked her head. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry's cheeks flushed slightly. "Sorry, Captain. I mean our new shuttle. We've been unofficially calling it _Delta Flyer_. I guess I just got used to it."

"Is it ready for flight?" Chakotay asked.

"It is," Janeway said before Harry could answer. "Lieutenant Paris just informed me this morning."

"The vessel has yet to be properly tested," Tuvok pointed out.

"It'll fly," Tom said.

"How would using _Delta Flyer_ help us inside the nebula?" Burke asked.

"We could use it as a sensor relay between _Equinox_ and _Voyager_ ," Harry said. "It would double our search area and speed up the process of triangulating the Borg signal in the nebula. We could use _Tereshkova_ , but the _Flyer_ has better shielding and comm tech."

Janeway gave Harry a nod. "Good thinking, Lieutenant. Commander—" She turned to Chakotay. "—it looks like you'll be the first to pilot our new shuttle. I want you and Miss Eelo running relay for this mission."

"With all due respect, Captain," Tom said, "the _Flyer's_ going to be in a delicate position. It'll need our best pilot at the helm."

The captain smiled. "I know you're eager to test out your new shuttle, Mister Paris, but I need you here. Chakotay will pilot _Delta Flyer_ , and Talia will coordinate _Voyager's_ and _Equinox's_ telemetry."

"Does this mean that we're naming our shuttle _Delta Flyer_?" Harry asked.

Janeway's gaze shifted to Harry. "Yes, Lieutenant. I think that is a very fitting name."

He smiled.

"I want everyone ready to go within the hour," Janeway said. "Let's do it."

* * *

 _Delta Flyer_ flew more smoothly than any other shuttle I had been in. It took all of my willpower to keep from begging Chakotay to switch places with me. Syncing sensor telemetry was my job on the mission, not piloting. I was _Voyager's_ Chief Science Officer. It was why Janeway assigned me.

Still, I couldn't help but feel more than a little green with envy.

"I can just about hear you plotting a mutiny back there," Chakotay quipped soon after we disembarked. "If you behave, I might let you fly us back."

I smiled. "Well, in that case, maybe I won't shoot you in the back just yet."

"Yet?"

"You heard me."

He chuckled. "Does this mean I'm forgiven for yesterday?"

I glanced at him, considering his question and the way he had asked it. Did he really feel that bad about the sim?

When I didn't respond, he stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "If I could say I'm sorry, I would. But I had to test you."

"I know."

"I _am_ sorry about how I responded afterwards. I could have been more supportive."

"Don't sweat it, Tay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"I'll survive. I always do. Besides, I'm the one who snapped and cussed out a superior officer. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not ready."

"If I thought you weren't ready, I would have requested Harry take your place." He gave me a half smile. "Stop being so hard on yourself."

Just then, my console chirped. I glanced down to read the transmission. "Telemetry link is secure. Both ships report ready."

With one last lingering look, Chakotay turned back towards his console. "Then let's get started. Engaging impulse engines."

Just like that, we were entering the nebula.

At that distance from the star, its gasses appeared to be a deep, sapphire blue. Although particle movements couldn't be observed with the naked eye, the whole thing seemed to whirl inward. It was like stepping inside a twilight blizzard that had been frozen in time—beautiful and dangerous. In the space of seventy-two hours, those gasses and particles would become deadly, but in that moment everything was utterly still.

I had to tear my eyes away from the sight, forcing myself to focus on work. "Telemetry link is stable. _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ are beginning scans."

"Acknowledged. Maintaining course and speed."

For the next several hours, that was how the mission went—keeping a steady pace as we searched for the source of the signal. It seemed to ripple through the nebula's matter like water disturbed by a breeze. After a time, we were able to determine a direction, at least. Still, the source eluded us.

Then it was right on top of us.

We saw them before we actually sensed them. The cube was massive, as Borg cubes tended to be. Dim shafts of green light emanated from the spaces between exposed conduits that twisted along the outer hull. Several sections seemed to have blown out from the inside.

Still, someone was home. A moment after we saw them, the cube opened fire, shaking the _Flyer_ fiercely.

"I've lost both telemetry links!" I shouted as I quickly typed in a command to reorient my station for battle. "How the hell has that thing survived here all this time?"

"I don't know," Chakotay said, "but I can't shake them."

Another volley hit the shuttle. "Warp engines are offline," I said, though it wasn't as if we had any use for those inside the nebula. That was when it hit me. "They're not trying to destroy us. They want to capture us in tact."

"Not if I can help it. Have you got tactical up?"

"Yes, sir. Without the neuroelectric field from the hive mind, they can't regenerate the damaged parts of their ship. Their power output is fluctuating."

"Good, then we're still in the game. I'm gonna bring us about, and I want you to start targeting their propulsion systems."

"Aye, sir."

One by one, I shot out the cube's multiple engines as Chakotay flew past them—spread out as they were so as to prevent a total system collapse. Yet within minutes, Chakotay and I had managed just that.

"Their propulsion systems are offline," I reported.

It had been way too easy to disable that cube. Of course, they hadn't been in good shape to begin with.

"Engaging full impul—"

Chakotay's words were cut off as the shuttle jolted, hit by a powerful shot of phaser fire. A bright red notification overtook several of my tactical controls. "Weapons are down!"

With a jerk, the cube caught us in a tractor beam. An eerie humming reverberated through the hull as the beam guided us into the round, open maw of their ship. Although we tried every trick we knew for escaping such things, we couldn't get away.

Just like that, our lives were over. Just like that, the Borg had won.

Somewhere in the midst of my hazy, shocked mind arose a thought. "They haven't hailed us."

"What?"

"The Borg always announce their plans to their victims in an audio transmission. We've gotten no such comm."

Chakotay gaped at me as if he couldn't decide whether to chastise me for bringing up something so trivial or to take my observation as a stroke of brilliant insight. The docking clamps locked onto the shuttle and a hissing sound came through the air vents. Before Chakotay ever had a chance to decide on his response to me, my head seemed to transform into a hundred-kilo stone.

And everything went black.


	13. Who We Are

**Who We Are**

 _Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective_

 _CW: Violence, character death_

* * *

"Talia! Wake up!"

I tried to cling to my warm, thick blanket of unconsciousness for as long as I could, but it was hard to do when someone kept shaking me and yelling. Although I couldn't put my finger on why, I knew that I most definitely did not want to face whatever existed outside of me. Maybe if I ignored the shaking and yelling, it would go away and I could sleep.

The person sighed. "Damnit, Talia, don't make me slap you."

I groaned.

A large hand gripped mine—probably because I'd reached for him.

Him, who?

Chakotay. Yes, that was it. I was with Chakotay. But where? And why did my head feel so strange and heavy?

"Talia, open your eyes."

It was hard, but I did as he asked. Luckily, the room was only lit with a dim, green light that was easy on the eyes, and Chakotay's head was blocking anything from shining directly onto my face. I couldn't make out his features, but it was definitely him.

Where the hell were we?

I sat up, then instantly regretted it. My stomach twisted, forcing everything up my throat and into my mouth. I flipped onto my hands and knees, vomiting on the grated floor. Evidently, the room had been built with just that sort of reaction in mind, because there was a catch below the grate that flowed with water to rinse everything away.

Chakotay pulled my hair back from my face. My ponytail was a frizzy mess and a lot of hair had slipped out of it. He wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me slowly to my feet. I was so dizzy that I damn near fell over, but Chakotay held me steady. Once I was on my feet, he walked me to a corner of the room where a faucet protruded from the wall. He twisted the handle, bringing forth a steady stream of water.

I cupped my shaking hands under the stream and brought the lukewarm liquid to my lips. After rinsing the taste of bile away, I fell to my knees and let the water flow directly into my mouth, drinking gratefully. It wasn't until I turned the water off, sat back against the wall, and took a good look around that I remembered what had happened to us.

"The cube," I whispered, scrambling to my feet. Hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood, sending tingling sensations through my skin. All that kept the flashbacks and terror at bay was the very real imminent danger of our situation. I wasn't usually one to lose control in the moment. Falling apart wouldn't become an option until after we were rescued.

 _If_ we were rescued.

The chamber we were in was odd— _very_ odd. Borg drones didn't need to drink water, nor did they have any use for a wastewater system. Their implants took care of all such needs.

My eyes fell upon a half-assimilated corpse lying on a slab in the other corner, and suddenly I knew where we were. "An assimilation chamber."

Chakotay nodded. "That was my suspicion."

I frowned. "But we haven't been assimilated yet. Why?"

"I don't know."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not much longer than you. Just long enough to throw up, drag myself to the water faucet, and wake you up."

I circled the chamber slowly, running my fingertips across the conduit-covered walls. As I neared the opening to a corridor, I could hear the faint hum of a force field. "Have you seen any drones pass by?"

"No, but it's not like we have a clear view from here."

"Heard any footsteps?"

"None."

I turned to face him. "Drones don't walk softly. If someone passed by, you'd know. Something's wrong here. I think this cube might be understaffed."

"Can you hack their system without a tricorder?"

I shook my head. "No, and it doesn't look like they put any interface panels in this room. But if there are only a few drones on board, and they're all disconnected from the hive mind, maybe— _maybe_ —we can actually talk to them."

* * *

We waited for a very long time, but no one came to assimilate us. Not even a single drone seemed to pass within hearing range of the assimilation chamber. How many hours had it been?

Finally, we heard footsteps.

Two underdeveloped male drones were escorting Captain Ransom to see us. The drones both looked like adolescents who had emerged from their maturation chambers too early. Not all of their implants had developed, leaving odd gaps in the exoplating along their chests, legs, and arms.

One boy was taller and more muscular than the other, making him much more imposing. By the corded ridges framing his face and neck, and the upside-down droplet of cartilage between his eyes, I knew at a glance he was Cardassian.

The other boy was slightly shorter and more reserved in his mannerisms. He was distinguished by a sharp ridge that ran along the bridge of his nose and faded into what might have once been his hairline. I didn't recognize his species as one we'd encountered in our journey, but the abundance of gaps in his exoplating suggested that he was a more recent victim of assimilation.

Out of the two, he was the weaker link—the one who had the most humanity left in him. If anyone could be persuaded to sympathize with us, it would be him.

"See?" the Cardassian snapped at Ransom. "The hostages are unharmed, just as I told you."

"I'd like to examine them," Ransom said.

"That was not part of the agreement."

Ransom grunted, then looked at us. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing serious," Chakotay said.

I eyed the drones.

"Don't let their appearance fool you, Commander Eelo," Ransom said. "They're in control of this vessel and all of its armaments."

"How many are there?"

"Enough!" shouted the Cardassian. Clearly, he was the administrator of the cube. "You've seen the hostages. Now give us the deflector."

"I never said I'd give you our deflector," Ransom insisted. "I said I'd consider your offer if you gave me reassurance that my people were unharmed. I need to return to my ship and try to make contact with the other vessel in our fleet. Its captain is my superior officer. I can't make this trade without her."

The Cardassian grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard against a bulkhead, barring his other arm against Ransom's throat. "No! We will not allow you to call reinforcements. Give us the deflector now!"

"We need more time. The deflector array is essential to our—"

"No more excuses! No more deceptions! The deflector!"

Ransom grit his teeth, straining to breathe despite the drone's arm pressing against his throat. "No."

"Second, inject him."

The other drone seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before setting his face with a determined expression. In two strides, he walked over and plunged his assimilation tubules into Ransom's neck. Ransom howled, his cry echoing through the corridor and making my insides twist. The drone recoiled, yanking his tubules out as if the action had burned him, and stepped back.

"Release the containment field," the Cardassian demanded.

The boy inserted his tubules into an interface panel on their side of the threshold, and the forcefield deactivated. The Cardassian shoved Ransom into the chamber with us, leaving Chakotay and I scrambling to catch him while the forcefield went back up. Without another word, both boys turned around and left.

"Hey!" I screamed after them, transferring Ransom's weight to Chakotay and lunging towards the forcefield. I stopped just short of the threshold. "Hey, wait! I need to talk to you!"

No response.

"Comply!"

But their footsteps had already faded away.

"Talia," Chakotay said. "I need your help."

I sighed and turned back to my comrades, reaching out to retake some of Ransom's weight. The wound in his neck was bleeding, which was odd—usually, nanoprobes formed an instant clot at the site of injection and encouraged rapid cellular regeneration, leaving no mess behind. The vessels in his skin were turning gray, but no implants were forming.

Slowly, Chakotay and I lowered Ransom to the floor, propping him up against a bulkhead. We stripped off his uniform jacket and the high-collared shirt beneath it, leaving only his sleeveless undershirt in place.

The wound on his neck wasn't bleeding profusely, but it still concerned me. I ripped a section of his shirt and pressed it against his neck to staunch the flow of blood. "That drone didn't want to assimilate you."

"How... do you know?" Ransom asked, pausing in between words to gasp for air.

"He hesitated. And when you screamed, he pulled back. If I could just talk to him—"

"Good luck... with that. The other drone... the Cardie... he calls himself... First. Keeps them all... on a tight leash."

"He's the admin drone," I said.

"How many are there?" Chakotay asked.

"Five." Ransom grunted as he shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable. "The other three... are younger. Two twin boys... and a girl. All other drones... dead."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

"Didn't know... maturation chambers... malfunctioned..."

"They emerged early?"

Ransom nodded.

"What did First want the deflector dish for?" Chakotay asked.

"Didn't say. Whatever it is... the deflector on your shuttle... won't cut it."

"I wonder if they can modify it to boost their comm signal," I said, "or even relink with the hive mind."

"Regardless," Chakotay said, "it's not something we can afford to give them. Without it, _Equinox_ will be dead in the water, and it'll attract company we're not ready to face yet."

"I had to keep... them talking," Ransom said. "Buy time. I don't know... where the hell... _Voyager_ is."

"They'll find us and get us out of here," I assured him.

Ransom dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "I know."

His skin seemed to be yellowing, but it was hard to tell in the Borg-green lighting, and he was still panting as he drifted off to sleep. It wasn't at all the way I had imagined assimilation would look, even in its early stages. Sure, the drone hadn't intended to actually assimilate Ransom, but the symptoms should be similar. What were those nanoprobes doing to him? Why were there still two holes in his neck?

And why did that young drone act like injecting Ransom was painful for him, too?

Lifting the fabric from Ransom's neck, I examined the wound. The blood was beginning to clot, and the fluid coming out was mostly plasma, but the nanoprobes didn't seem to be doing much for him. I pressed the fabric down again.

"Tay," I murmured, handing him Ransom's shirt, "I need a fresh swath for the wound and a strip to tie it in place. Please."

He nodded and started carefully ripping into the shirt.

"It should be healing," I said. "The nanoprobes should be regenerating the cells around the injection site."

"I guess assimilation isn't as straightforward as adult drones make it look."

* * *

There was no way to gauge the passage of time inside that little cell. Our captors never came back to check on us, and we had nothing at all to eat. We felt confident that at least a day had passed since Chakotay and I were captured, meaning time was running out for _Voyager_ to find us.

Chakotay and I searched high and low for anything in the room that we could use to escape—or at least get someone's attention—but came up empty. The chamber had been designed with resistant prisoners in mind. All we could do was sit there and wait for the clock to run out.

Ransom had even less time. After those first few restless hours of sleep, he'd learned how to control his breathing. Still, he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen, which left him in a constant state of exhaustion. We helped him to lay down—jacket balled beneath his head as a pillow—but he didn't have the strength to move from his spot. All he could do was turn over every so often.

Until he couldn't even do that anymore.

More worrisome was that his skin had turned definitively yellow, as had the whites of his eyes. If he didn't get help soon, he was going to die.

"Still got that fancy knife of yours?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"Then there's one more play we can make."

"We're listening," Chakotay said.

"You need to kill me."

"What?" I nearly shouted.

Chakotay frowned. "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious," Ransom said. "The drones don't know this, but Max is keeping an eye on our lifesigns. No doubt that Cardie has used my injury to pressure Max on the issue of the deflector dish, but Max won't budge until he hears from me or Captain Janeway... or until he loses my lifesign."

"What would he do if you died?" Chakotay asked.

"He's a good officer, but he gets brash and impulsive when he's worked up. My guess? He'll get trigger-happy. This thing will come to blows."

"The drones will kill us," I said.

"They might," Ransom agreed, "but you'll get your chance to talk to them before they do. Maybe you can convince them to make friends."

"I'm not sure that a shoot-out is a good idea," Chakotay warned. "The cube could destroy _Equinox_."

"Max'll run before that," Ransom said. "But even if he runs, the weapons-fire will give _Voyager's_ sensors something more solid to trace. The cube's projecting a dispersal field around their ship. Damn thing is impossible to find until you trip over it, and it's probably masking _Equinox's_ signature just by proximity. But weapons mucking up the chemicals and matter in the nebula... that's a different story."

I looked away and began to pace the length of the chamber. It was smart—provoking Burke and the cube to make a scene for _Voyager_ to find. Still I shook my head. "No. I won't do it."

"It's the only way," Ransom insisted.

"No! It's not. There's something else, we just have to find it."

"You've looked. You and the commander searched this room forwards and backwards. I know you did because you kept interrupting my sleep. There's nothing here."

"So you want me to kill you?"

"I'm dying anyway. It's slow going. I'd rather get it over with."

"You're not dead yet, which means there's a chance to save you."

"Not if _Voyager_ doesn't find us soon."

I looked to Chakotay for help, but his face was full of resignation. "What, no comment?"

He shrugged. "He's got a point. It's either that or keep waiting."

I scoffed, throwing up my hands. "I can't believe this. We don't even know if anything will come from this batshit idea of yours. We don't know if Burke will open fire, and we don't know what will happen if he does. Are we really going to trade an officer's life for a gamble?"

"What the hell happened to you?" Ransom snapped.

I frowned, pausing just beside him. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me. You used to be something else. What happened to the ex-Maquis acting captain who chased off a Hirogen hunting party and threatened to drag me back to Janeway in a tractor beam, feeding me some bullshit about an obscure regulation that didn't even apply?"

I couldn't help but smile a little. All that time, I'd always wondered if he knew I was bluffing.

"What happened to the woman who pulled together her Maquis rebels, stole my ship right out from under me, and ran off to fight a war against a monster time-ship so she could rescue her comrades, knowing what Starfleet would do if they ever found out?"

I looked at the floor.

Ransom grabbed my ankle, demanding my attention. "What happened to the woman who insisted on completing a heist on a Borg sphere despite the fact that she was literally out of her mind? The woman who held herself together until it was over, who pulled off that mission and staged a small mutiny against me when I wanted to cut losses and run?"

"I was right," I hissed, yanking my leg away. "Annika was alive. I was right not to give up on her, and I'm right not to give up on you now."

He studied me closely, the blue of his irises dulled by the jaundice-yellow surrounding them. "No. I remember the look you had then. Same look I saw the first day I met you. That's not the look in your eyes now. You're lost. Scared shitless. Anything but confident. You used to jump at the chance for a good calculated risk, but you don't have the guts anymore to do what needs to be done."

" _I will not murder one of my own_!" I shouted.

He laughed, which turned into a fit of coughing. "You're not murdering me. Those adolescent Borg murdered me. You're just putting an end to my needless suffering. Death is part of life, Eelo, and there's gonna be a lot more death to come. You might as well get used to it."

Tears started to form in my eyes. I thought of the sim and how I couldn't bear the prospect of harming Chakotay. If it had all been real, and he really had been assimilated, would I have let him take me? Certainly, he would rather I kill him in such a situation.

Were the roles reversed, would Chakotay or Ransom be able to kill me?

Ransom wasn't assimilated, but he was just about dead, and chances weren't good for his survival even if I rejected his request. _Voyager_ had yet to show up, _Equinox_ was in a stand-off they couldn't resolve alone, and both ships were running out of time before the nebula's gasses wore down their shields. None of the Borg survivors had checked on us since leaving Ransom to die. We needed to get everyone's attention.

I glanced at Chakotay, who gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm leaving it up to you, Talia. It's your _tagh_."

So Chakotay agreed with Ransom, but he wasn't going to order me to kill the man. I was the one who would have to live with it, so it needed to be my call. I had half a mind to toss Chakotay my knife and walk away, but if I did that, Ransom would die.

"We'll give it a couple more hours," I said. "If no one shows up soon and you start really going downhill, I'll do it. But not yet."

"Fair enough," Ransom grunted. "In that case, go away. I'm going to take a nap."

I took a seat on the floor beside Chakotay, who murmured, "You should rest, too."

"We're all exhausted," I said.

"Seriously. Get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."

Balling my jacket and curling up on the floor, I let the black take me.

* * *

Ransom screamed, jerking me back to consciousness. The sound reverberated off the walls and seemed to make the entire chamber tremble, but still no one came. Chakotay propped Ransom in a halfway-sitting position against himself, then looked at me. Seeing that I was awake, he gave a solemn shake of his head.

Shaking my jacket out, I tugged it on and zipped it up halfway, my skin somehow cold despite the slightly warm and sticky air.

When I knelt down on Ransom's other side, he grabbed my wrist so tight I thought he might break it. "Please," he begged through gritted teeth. His face was unnaturally yellow, as if it was the only pigment left in his skin, and he was covered in sweat and tears. Blood trickled from one side of his mouth. "Please."

"Okay," I said, pulling out my knife.

His grip on my wrist tightened. "You make sure... make sure my people get home."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I will, Captain."

"Rudy," he whispered hoarsely.

I smiled at him, wriggling my wrist to loosen his grip and slipping my hand into his. With my other hand, I lowered the blade into position. "We'll get your people home, Rudy. I promise."

More tears flooded his eyes, and he nodded. He was ready.

Sucking in a deep breath, I forced the blade up between his ribs, penetrating his heart. His eyes went wide and his grip tightened painfully. Still I held onto his hand, even as I jerked the knife to a different angle and pulled it back out.

Blood spewed from the wound, covering my hands and soaking my uniform. In seconds, Ransom was unconscious. His hand went limp, and his head flopped onto Chakotay's shoulder. His breathing was rapid and laborious until, within a minute, it simply stopped. Chakotay gently lowered Ransom's head and torso to the floor, and I finally let go of his hand.

Then I just stared at the knife. I wasn't sure what to do next. I needed to clean my blade, but with what? It seemed tasteless to wipe it on Ransom's clothes, and I sure as hell didn't want to wipe it on mine. I reminded myself that my clothes were already covered in his blood, but I still couldn't bear to add more blood to them. Part of my mind wanted to panic, but the rest of me knew we were about to be jumping into action when Burke attacked.

 _If_ he attacked.

"Talia," Chakotay said.

I blinked and looked up at him. He was all blurry, and I realized that I must have been crying.

He held out a hand. "Let me clean your knife."

I blinked several more times, forcing the tears from my eyes so I could see, and gave him the knife. He stood and disappeared from my line of sight

My hands. They were red. I couldn't even see my own skin anymore. All I could see was Ransom's blood.

Across the room, water splashed into the catch below the grate. I thought of Ransom's blood rushing out like water from that faucet before slowing to a steady stream. The faucet turned off after a few seconds, but the blood was still dripping from his lifeless body into the catch.

When Chakotay returned, he pulled me to my feet, guided me to the faucet so he could wash my hands, and he dried them with his own jacket. Sliding my knife into its sheath around my ribs and snapping it safely into place, he cleared his throat. "If, uh... if you give me your uniform, I'll rinse it for you."

I shook my head. "I'm not taking the ship in my underwear."

As if on cue, the cube jolted. A pulsating sound echoed through the hull. It had to be phaser fire. The plan worked. Burke had lost Ransom's lifesign and started shooting.

We got their attention.

The power flickered, dropping us briefly into darkness before being restored. Chakotay and I looked at each other. "The force field," he said.

With a sharp nod, I followed him to the chamber's only exit. We stood on either side of the threshold, clinging to nearby conduits for balance and inclining our ears as close to the field as we dared. When another volley made the power flicker again and the hum of the force field died out, we both bolted from the room.

It was a long way to the cube's maturation center, but we made good time. The battle occupied our captors' full attention, giving us an opportunity to take action. Silently, we slipped into the room where five Borg children were busy trying to use a damaged cube to battle a fully-armed starship.

I pulled out my knife, gesturing towards the place where First stood barking orders.

Chakotay nodded, giving me the go-ahead.

I crept around the room, ducking behind conduits and bulkheads and consoles until I reached a good spot to grab the boy. After a volley of weapons-fire from _Equinox_ hit, he turned aside to shout an order at a young female drone. The girl struck me as familiar, giving me a half-second's pause, but I couldn't afford to linger on the thought.

This was my opening.

Charging out from behind an adjacent console, I twisted First's hand behind his back and curled my arm around his neck, pressing the blade against the artery in his neck. "Tell your drones to stand down weapons. We need to talk."

Just then, a klaxon blared.

Chakotay stepped out from behind a console, both of our phasers in hand. The drones must have left them lying around their makeshift command center. Not very efficient. "What does that alarm mean?"

"It's a proximity alert," said the drone who killed Ransom—the one referred to as Second. "Your other vessel has entered scanning range point-two-five lightyears from our position."

I grinned. " _Voyager_."


	14. Negotiations

**Negotiations**

 _Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective_

 _CW: Brief flashback to a pregnancy loss_

* * *

The cube shuddered under the force of _Equinox's_ phasers, but none of the drones paid it any attention. All eyes were on me as I held their administrator at knifepoint.

"Open a comm channel to the _Equinox_ ," Chakotay snapped.

Still they watched First for direction.

I pressed the tip of the knife into his skin, opening a small cut and making him flinch. I couldn't afford to hesitate in killing the boy in my arms. If he fought back, I wouldn't stand a chance against his Borg-enhanced strength.

At the moment, it wouldn't be a problem.

Ransom's death filled me with a kind of rage I hadn't felt since the Maquis, except this time it was more personal. Because of the drone in my arms, Ransom was dead. Because of this damned Cardassian Borg, I had been forced to kill my own comrade.

"Do it," I growled.

"Comply," First told the others.

The female drone tapped buttons on a tactile interface, leading me to guess that her assimilation tubules had not yet been installed when she emerged prematurely from the maturation chamber.

Within seconds, Burke's voice took over the comm system. "This is _Equinox_. Are you ready to surrender the hostages?"

"No surrender!" shouted First.

I snorted. Typical Cardassian pride.

"Then why the hail?" Burke asked.

"Commander Burke," Chakotay said, "this is Commander Chakotay from _Voyager_. We were able to escape from our holding cell during the battle and made our way to the command center. Eelo's got her knife on the administrative drone's throat at the moment, so we'd appreciate it if you would hold your fire while we discuss terms with these Borg."

There was a pause on the line, then, "Acknowledged. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Sit tight. If the shields drop, I wouldn't mind a security detachment."

"No reinforcements!" First shouted.

"You're hardly in a place to make demands, Cardassian," I snarled in his ear.

"Understood, sir. Burke out."

"His designation is First," Second said.

I glanced up. "What?"

The boy turned his whole body to face me. "You referred to him as 'Cardassian.' That is not his designation. His designation is First."

His matter-of-fact delivery threw me, knocking the edge off my anger.

"His species is Cardassian," Chakotay explained as he tinkered with the settings on both phasers. When he finished, he looked up. "These are set to wide beam, meaning that if any of you cause trouble, Lieutenant Commander Eelo and I will shoot you all simultaneously. You won't have time to adapt. Understand?"

"Yes," said Second.

Chakotay looked to the other drones. "What about the rest of you? You understand what I just said?"

"We will not defy the will of the collective," the girl replied.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It means they agree with Second," I said, "unless First here chooses to be a problem."

Chakotay looked at First. "Well? Are you going to cause trouble and make me shoot you all?"

He clenched and relaxed his jaw. "We will not resist."

"Good," I said before releasing my hold and shoving him a safe distance away. Sheathing my knife, I walked to Chakotay and reclaimed my phaser.

"Your designation is First," Chakotay said to the Cardassian. Then to the other adolescent boy, he said, "And you're Second."

"That is correct," Second said.

Chakotay looked at the other three drones. "What are your designations?"

"I am Third," said the girl. She gestured to the twins. "They are Fourth and Fifth."

"My name is Commander Chakotay." He gestured to me. "This is Lieutenant Commander Eelo."

"You were the second to emerge from the maturation chambers?" I asked Second. He seemed more willing to talk, and I had no interest in speaking to First anyway.

"No," Second replied, "the first. I could not establish order. I became Second, and he—" Second tilted his head, indicating the Cardassian— "became First."

"So you've established a chain of command," Chakotay said.

"We are Borg," First spat. "We are a collective."

"A collective of five underdeveloped drones on a ship normally run by thousands," I pointed out.

"When we re-establish our link with the collective," Second said, "they will come for us."

"Is that why you want the deflector dish from _Equinox_?" Chakotay asked.

"We will modify it to amplify our neural link," Third said.

I looked at the girl closely for the first time. As I studied her face—sharply-angled nose ridge similar to Second's, big grey eyes, pointed chin—I couldn't help but think of Anelina, the young Brenari girl the Devore had arrested on _Voyager_ for being born a telepath. This girl was the wrong species, but if her eyes were brown instead of Borg-gray and she had a head full of dark curly hair, she could have looked almost the same. She was even the right age, appearing to have barely reached adolescence before being assimilated.

"What do you think, Talia?" Chakotay's voice cut into my thoughts. He'd been saying something to the drones, but I was so focused on the girl that I missed it.

"About what?"

A slight frown crossed his face but quickly disappeared. "I was just explaining why we can't give them the deflector, and I suggested that perhaps we could help them make repairs to their own systems instead."

On the surface, it sounded like a viable idea—especially once _Voyager_ reached us. It would buy time and give us more leverage with the drones as we tried to convince them not to return to the Borg. "Yes, I think we can do that."

Chakotay turned to First. "What do you say? If we help you repair your technology, will you let us take our shuttle and return to our people safely?"

First glared at him, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. But we were the ones with the guns, so he didn't have many options. "You have two hours."

"Hold on," I said. "Neither Chakotay nor I are engineers, and the engineers on _Equinox_ aren't familiar with Borg technology. _Voyager_ should make it here in four hours, and there are multiple crew there with the right knowledge and experience to help you. We should wait for them."

"You will repair the systems by the time your other vessel arrives, or we will assimilate you."

The limit of two hours had just become four with relatively little negotiation. First was proud like a Cardassian and stubborn like an adolescent of any species, but he was also Borg. Drones were programmed to follow, not lead. He was already bending to our will. How much more would we be able to shape him before he snapped and did to us what he had done to Captain Ransom?

I shook my head. "Uh-uh. That's not how this works. We have the guns, so we tell you what to do. We could shoot you all and leave now if we wanted. But we're staying to help because you need our assistance. We disabled your engines, and they won't regenerate without neuroelectric energy from the hive mind. Whatever you're doing to protect your ship from the corrosive effects of the nebula won't last forever, and you can't escape. You need us. So either accept our terms, or we're leaving."

First clenched his jaw.

I pointed my phaser at his chest. "Comply."

His face twisted into a silent snarl.

"Does he speak for all of you?" Chakotay asked the other children. "You don't have to follow him. A collective is supposed to make decisions together, not blindly follow one forceful leader."

The drones all stared at him blankly.

"What if your problem isn't something that can be fixed with technology?" I asked them.

"Clarify," Second said.

"Something happened here that no one understands—something that killed every adult drone on this ship. Clearly, you're all very smart and capable, yet you haven't been able to figure out why your maturation chambers malfunctioned or why your neural link was severed. What if it isn't a problem with your technology? What if it's something else? We can help you find answers. We used to have a crewman who was Borg, who was liberated from the hive and became an individual. Our doctors on _Voyager_ know a lot about Borg physiology."

"Used to?" Second repeated. "What happened to your Borg crewman?"

"She left us to join the Unimatrix Zero rebellion," Chakotay said. "She's fighting for Borg freedom from the control of the hive mind."

"Rebellion," Third said, tilting her head. "An act of violent or open resistance to an established government or ruler."

"That's right."

"We are Borg!" First insisted. "We have no government. No ruler."

"What about the queen?" Chakotay asked.

Second tilted his head. "Queen?"

"The primary administrative drone for the collective," I clarified. "Her designation is Loran."

First's face went slack.

"Administrators bring order to chaos," Second said. "They are necessary for survival."

"We have administrators, too," Chakotay said. "Our captains and commanders. They bring us order and help us to survive, but they don't force us to give up our individuality. We choose to follow our leaders freely. They don't force us. Believe it or not, you're individuals now, too. You're not linked to one another or to the collective. You don't have to follow First if you don't want to."

"Commander Chakotay," one of the twin boys said. Hearing him speak was such a surprise that it pulled my attention almost completely away from observing First.

"Are you an administrator?" the other twin asked.

Chakotay smiled. "Yes, I am. On _Voyager_ , I'm second and Captain Janeway is first."

"If we choose not to follow our first," Second said, "will you be our administrator?"

I shifted my gaze to First, expecting him to protest such a suggestion, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Why had the mention of Loran's designation affected him in such a way? The answer came to me as quickly as the question. "You were in Unimatrix Zero."

He didn't reply.

"First," I said firmly as I stepped closer to him. He blinked and pulled his focus back onto me. "Did you know Loran? Were you in Unimatrix Zero?"

For a moment, his expression seemed to register fear. He looked almost childlike, vulnerable. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished behind a mask of hatred. "Do not engage us in irrelevant conversation. Repair our systems."

"We should allow their other vessel to help us when it arrives," Second said.

First turned his glare onto Second, but Second did not back down. Looking again at me, First snarled, "When your other vessel arrives, you will request one engineer to assist in repairs and one doctor to study the inactive drones." He looked at Chakotay. "If you are able to reactivate our neural link, we will release your shuttle and allow you to return to your ships. If you fail, we will assimilate you." With that, he crossed to the farthest interface console, decisively ending our conversation.

Chakotay turned to Second. " _Equinox_ will want to retrieve Captain Ransom's body as soon as possible. I'd rather not leave him down there until this is all done."

"We can temporarily deactivate the shielding surrounding that section to allow for transport."

"I appreciate it," Chakotay said with a nod. "If you open a comm link, I'll inform _Equinox_ of our agreement." When Second stepped away to relay the orders to Third, Chakotay held up my tricorder and motioned me closer. "I want you to start gathering data on what happened to this cube," he murmured. "When _Voyager_ gets here, we can send them data and samples for analysis, but I want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

"What about their neural link?" I asked, stowing the tricorder in my pocket.

"I'll look into their systems. It can't be much different from the tech I worked on at the Unity One colony. I'll gather as much info as I can, but I'm gonna play it stupid. We need to buy time until _Voyager_ gets here. Whatever it takes, we cannot hand these kids over to the Borg."

* * *

One by one, I did a thorough examination of each maturation chamber inside the complex. The chambers were similar to regeneration alcoves in size and shape, though they were enclosed for the child's protection and slightly larger in size than an alcove. They were designed to change with the child, tailoring the space to each drone's unique developmental needs.

Five units stood open—units that once contained five drones who were now running the cube. They had indeed malfunctioned spontaneously, just as the drones claimed. Four other units had suffered from malfunctions that were fatal to the developing drones inside. Those units remained closed, and I hoped that I wouldn't need to open them.

One unit was still active.

Using my tricorder to interface with the Borg computer system, I opened a circular viewport at the center of the unit and gasped at what I saw inside—a fully-developed fetus.

He was curled up in an artificial uterus, floating in amniotic fluid and attached to the cube by the Borg version of an umbilical cord. Like both Second and Third, he had a long ridge along the length of his nose and the middle of his forehead. Whatever species they were must have been the cube's most recent victims. He hadn't been there for long.

But something was wrong. My tricorder beeped out a warning, and I frowned at the interface. The maturation chamber was malfunctioning, just not severely enough to shut down its functioning... yet.

Suddenly I was back on that hot desert planet, the once-lively child in my belly gone completely still. My hand trembled, sweat slicking the tricorder's metal casing.

The baby was going to die.

As quickly as the flashback hit, it receded. I wasn't in a gravity well, but on a Borg cube... which was almost as horrifying. But here I had more resources.

Maybe this child could live.

"Chakotay," I called. He was at my side in an instant. "He isn't getting enough oxygen."

Second followed Chakotay over. "We have attempted to stabilize the chamber's oxygen levels, but it is too badly damaged."

"It is Borg," First said. "It will adapt."

"No." I glared at First. "He'll die unless we get him to _Equinox_."

"They cannot assist us. Is that not why we are waiting for your other vessel to arrive?"

"You're right," Chakotay said, glancing over my tricorder's readings. " _Voyager's_ crew are more familiar with Borg technology and physiology than anyone on _Equinox_. But this child may not live long enough to wait for _Voyager_."

"The chief medical officer on _Equinox_ is highly competent," I added. "More than that, she is this child's best chance at survival right now."

First glared at me.

"Please let me help him," I begged. "He's part of your collective, but he won't be for much longer."

For a painfully long moment, First didn't reply. Finally, he said, "Second will take the drone to another location for transport. We will not lower shields around this section."

I released my breath. "Thank you."

"There is an incubation pod we can transport the drone into," Second said.

Chakotay nodded. "I'll contact _Equinox_ and let them know."

* * *

By the time _Voyager_ arrived, Chakotay and I had enough data to know two things. The first was that my suspicion turned out to be correct—Second and Third's people were the cube's most recent victims, having been assimilated just days before disaster struck. The second was that the Borg had not only received their distress call but sent an encoded response that the surviving drones were unaware of.

The Borg had no intention of salvaging them. Instead, the collective had issued a command to self-destruct.

I was incredibly glad that Chakotay had opted to play stupid with the drones. None of them would have taken that news well, but least of all First. What would he do if we told him the truth? Would he comply with the Borg's command? Or would he call us liars and have us assimilated like Captain Ransom?

Chakotay explained what he could openly divulge to Captain Janeway, and she agreed to First's terms. "I'll send Dr. Schmullis and Chief Torres over right away."

"Actually," I interjected, "I was thinking it might be better to send Crewman Ghemor."

Chakotay shot me a look.

"Oh?" Janeway said. "And why do you say that?"

"I need her... _expertise_... on this one."

The captain was silent for a moment. "Very well. Is there anything else?"

"Not that I know of," Chakotay said, still glaring at me. "What about you, _Lieutenant_ Commander Eelo?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Keep us apprised of your progress," the captain said. "Janeway out."

Chakotay just about rounded on me as soon as the channel closed, though he kept his voice low. "Do you mind letting me in on your little plan?"

"No plan. Just a hunch."

"A hunch."

"That our young admin might respond better to us if he meets another member of his own species. Besides," I added, lowering my voice to a whisper, "if you and I can manipulate him as well as we have, just imagine what Iliana can do."

Chakotay pressed his lips together, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. Still, he gave a slight nod. "Alright. We'll see what happens."


	15. We Were Never Welcome

**We Were Never Welcome**

 _Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective_

* * *

" _Kardasika'I_ "

The sound of Iliana's exclamation announced the arrival of our help from _Voyager_. I turned to find her gaping at First. Second and Schmullis stared at her curiously. It wan't often that Iliana got caught by surprise.

 _You're Cardassian_ , she'd said.

"We are Borg," First practically spat at her.

"How long have you been Borg?" she asked, still speaking Kardasi.

First didn't even wait on his universal translator. "Do not engage us in irrelevant conversation!"

One corner of Iliana's mouth pulled upward as she sauntered towards him. "You know your father tongue. I bet you were quite young when you were taken. Old enough to speak but too young to understand what it means to love Cardassia."

"Perhaps the malfunctions began earlier than we believed," Second said, interjecting awkwardly into the conversation.

Iliana stopped just in front of First, but her green eyes flicked over to the less-assimilated adolescent boy. This time when she spoke, it was in Standard. "How very Borg of you to think a Cardassian remembering his true language is a malfunction. Your collective can steal as many of our children as it wants. It will never take our identity."

"That is precisely what the maturation process is meant to do," Second said. "All information relating to experiences of individuality is purged, including spoken language, until only the order of the collective remains."

"Charming."

"First was in the maturation chamber for a significant length of time. If he is able to recall the language he spoke prior to assimilation, then his chamber must have been malfunctioning for much of that period."

"That's not something the collective would have missed," I said.

"Annika spoke Federation Standard," Schmullis pointed out.

He was right. Could it have something to do with Unimatrix Zero?

"She did," Iliana said, shifting her gaze back to First, "even when she was still a machine."

First scowled. "We are Borg."

Iliana ran a finger along the corded ridge lining his jaw. "Yes, you are."

The annoyance on First's face gave way to confusion. For a few seconds, he simply stared down at Iliana, seemingly unsure of how to react to her. Then, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face, his expression becoming cold. "You have two hours to reconnect us to the hive mind. If you fail, we will assimilate you."

"Lucky me," Iliana deadpanned, wrenching her hand from his grasp.

"Talia," Chakotay said, "you and Schmullis get going on your study. We need to know what happened here. Ghemor—" His voice dropped an octave, nearly becoming a growl— "you're with me."

* * *

Second escorted Schmullis and me to a corridor where the children had transported some of the dead. In one section alone, there were hundreds of bodies. Although it wasn't the first time I had seen such a massive collection of dead drones, the silence was somehow more complete.

These drones hadn't been torn limb for limb by a vengeful member of Species 8472. There was no violence here, no carnage left behind. They'd simply shut themselves down.

"It never ceases to amaze me how long Borg corpses can resist decay," Schmullis said as he stooped to scan one of the bodies. The wonder in his voice felt wrong, as if he hadn't noticed that we were standing in the middle of a nightmare.

I swallowed a lump and cleared my throat, giving a perfunctory "Mm-hmm" but not reaching for my own tricorder. The drones' eyes were open—all of them gray and unfocused beneath a cloudy film. I'd once thought the eyes of living drones were reminiscent of a dead person, but looking around the corridor made me keenly aware that some spark still burned within the children's eyes.

They were still alive, still sentient, no matter what the Borg had done to them... or what they'd done to others.

That thought called Ransom to mind—the agony in his yellow eyes, his challenge to me, how tightly he'd gripped my hand when I plunged my _tagh_

 _into his heart. My uniform was stiff now, stuck to my skin in places with his dried blood._

Anger bubbled in my chest. His death meant something. Intuition told me he was connected to this mystery somehow, I just needed to find the link. The agony... the pain...

I turned to Second. "When you injected Captain Ransom with some of your nanoprobes, it looked like you were in pain."

"Yes, I did experience physical discomfort."

"Why?"

The boy tilted his head. "I do not know."

"Commander?" Schmullis asked.

I ignored him, needing to understand why Ransom was dead, needing to find the connection. "Was the injection supposed to kill him?"

"No. It was intended to be threatening in order to motivate Captain Ransom's second to surrender his vessel's deflector."

"Then why is he dead?"

"I do not know."

I glanced over my shoulder, making eye contact with Schmullis. He nodded, pausing the tricorder's scan of a dead drone and making his way to me.

"Is this the first time you have experienced discomfort when using your assimilation tubules?" Schmullis asked as he began to scan the boy.

"It is not. Shortly before your arrival, I assisted in an assimilation."

I frowned. "All drones on this ship came out of maturation chambers. I scanned the units myself. What happened to the person you assimilated?"

"The drone's lifesigns terminated partway through the procedure."

"Do you know why?" Schmullis asked.

"We were unable to determine the cause of our failure."

"It's the drone in the assimilation chamber, isn't it?" I said. "Where you held Chakotay and me."

"That is correct."

Schmullis closed his tricorder and stowed it in his pocket. "Do you mind if I take a sample of your nanoprobes?"

The look on Second's face hinted at suspicion, but he didn't resist. "You may proceed."

Fetching the hypospray from his medkit, Schmullis slid an empty vial into the device and pressed it to Second's neck. "Do any of your shipmates seem to have this problem?"

"No."

Just Second, then. Was he the link?

Schmullis hummed. After drawing the sample, he removed the vial and placed it carefully into a different case he had brought from _Voyager_. He tapped his combadge. "Schmullis to Doctor Kes."

"Kes here."

"Please sync the sickbay console to the Portable Medical Analysis Unit. There is a sample I need you to analyze."

"Right away, Doctor. Kes out."

Schmullis turned back to the dead drones in the corridor, but I grabbed his arm. "We have to go to the assimilation chamber and scan that drone."

But it was Second who spoke next. "That is not the task First designated for us to complete. We are to determine whether there was a biological reason for the malfunctions of this vessel."

"What if this is the reason?" I argued.

"Clarify."

I hesitated for a moment, not actually sure of why my question felt so important. Why was I advocating for a return to that horrible place at all?

" _What the hell happened to you_?" Ransom had asked. " _You used to jump at the chance for a good calculated risk, but you don't have the guts anymore to do what needs to be done._ "

"Your species was this cube's last known target," I reasoned aloud. "Days after they captured a colony of five hundred people, every adult drone died. Your chamber was the first to malfunction. You're the only one of the survivors who has problems with nanoprobe injection, and both times it has led to the death of your victim. What if your condition is somehow connected to what happened on this ship?"

"We'll still need data from several adult drones to confirm your hypothesis," Schmullis pointed out.

"Fine," I said. "So we gather what we need here, then go to the assimilation chamber and take a look at that drone."

"Very well."

We both looked to Second. "We will proceed with your hypothesis," the boy said.

While the doctor and I scanned and collected samples, the portable analysis unit worked on Second's blood sample. By the time Schmullis announced that he was ready to move on, the unit signaled its readiness to accept a new sample. He swapped out the vial with one containing a sample of a pathogen we'd found in every dead drone.

"Kes to Dr. Schmullis."

"Schmullis here."

"I'm sending a report to your tricorder right now. There's definitely something off about those nanoprobes. When I exposed them to unfamiliar blood cells in a simulation, they destroyed the cells rather than assimilating them."

"And in doing so, they destroyed their own ability to replicate."

"That's right."

"Fascinating," Schmullis said as he scrolled through the data on his tricorder. "And there were no abnormalities with the subject's own blood cells?"

"None that I could find, but I'd like to do a more thorough analysis of the data."

"Of course. Please inform me if you find anything important. Schmullis out."

When I glanced at Second, he was staring at his hands with a horrified expression. "I am defective."

Compassion welled up from some deep, dormant place inside, making me ache for this boy. Before I could stop myself, I placed a hand on his arm. "You're not defective. Your nanoprobes may be, but _you_ are not."

He stared at my hand with an odd expression I couldn't interpret.

I pulled away. "Sorry. Some individuals have a propensity for using touch to offer comfort to others. You seemed troubled."

Second lifted his eyes to mine. "I was not offended by your gesture. I believe there may have been a similar practice in Brunali culture."

A flicker of hope warmed my chest, soothing the ache. I smiled at Second. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

* * *

Returning to the assimilation chamber was like going back to a place after it had endured some kind of disaster. Everything was familiar, yet it felt incredibly distant and unreal. There was an uncanny sense of wrongness, as if any moment I'd realize I was dreaming and things would go back to how they were before.

Nothing would be the way it was before.

My eyes sought out the place where Captain Ransom died, and nausea clutched my insides at the sight of his dried blood staining the grate. For the first time, I was thankful for my lack of food. If there had been anything in my stomach, I might have lost it.

It took a few moments for me to realize my companions had moved on. The sound of Schmullis' tricorder tugged at my awareness. _Walk away_ , I commanded myself. I had a job to do.

At the table upon which the partially-assimilated corpse lay, I followed Schmullis' lead and retrieved my tricorder. While his device was designed for medical purposes, mine was geared towards collecting other scientific data. The more information we had, the better off we'd be. I scanned the body.

Schmullis hummed. "It appears the patient suffered a rapid loss of red blood cells. She became severely anemic, leading to heart failure."

"Consistent with what Kes found in the nanoprobes," I said. "And it would explain Captain Ransom's symptoms."

"I'm still not seeing any connection to the sudden deaths of the drones aboard this ship."

"What if the pathogen that killed them had a different effect on Second? Could it have altered his nanoprobes?"

Schmullis frowned. "Based on Kes' initial findings, I highly doubt it."

"She's still sorting through all our data. She might find something."

He snapped his tricorder shut. "With all due respect, Commander, we don't have time. We need to focus our studies on the pathogen."

"No, this is connected somehow. We just haven't answered the right questions yet."

Schmullis crossed his arms. "Such as?"

"Well, for starters—" I turned to Second. "If your colony was the last stop this ship made before everyone died, then where the hell did this woman come from?"

"We were ordered not to discuss this drone."

I grit my teeth and stepped closer. "She might be part of what went wrong here, and if she is, we need to know everything if we're going to fix it. So start discussing."

* * *

"Another survivor?"

Chakotay's eyes were wide as I shared, in hushed tones, what I'd learned from Second about the corpse in the assimilation chamber.

I nodded. "The only fully-developed drone to do so. She intended to join the Unimatrix Zero rebels, and had even begun to remove her own implants, but First overpowered her. He tried to re-assimilate her, but he couldn't make her compliant, so he demanded that Second attempt to 'repair' her. She became severely anemic and died within twenty-four hours."

Chakotay glanced over his shoulder, probably checking for eavesdroppers. "Maybe she was liberated along with the rest of Unimatrix Zero and was laying low."

"Maybe. If First was in Unimatrix Zero with her, it's possible she was waiting for an opportunity to get them both out."

"Or she was spying."

I hadn't thought of that.

I shook my head. "The point is, I think she survived because she wasn't connected to the hive mind. The pathogen spread through the whole ship using the local neural link. It was stopped before it infiltrated the central plexus or the maturation chambers, so it didn't spread to any other Borg ships and it didn't infect the children. Every active drone on board received a shut-down command, so that's what they did. At that point, standard Borg procedure would have been for the admin drones to activate the cube's self-destruct sequence. But they didn't."

"They were spaced," he said.

"What?"

"First claimed they shut down all sections of the ship that were too badly damaged in order to conserve power, but I looked at the activity log myself. Someone shut down the command center manually and vented it before the first maturation chamber opened."

"It must have been the survivor."

He nodded. "It looks that way."

"Is it just me, or does this situation sound a bit too familiar?"

Chakotay frowned. "You think this pathogen is similar to the virus we used to liberate Unimatrix Zero?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Maybe the survivor planted it on purpose. Maybe she created it. And I still don't know how Second's malfunctioning nanoprobes fit into all of this. I just have this feeling in my gut that it's connected."

"I think you're right. In fact, Ghemor came across something you'll want to see."

Chakotay led me to a console where Iliana was working. Its innards were strewn around the floor, framing the slender woman as she tinkered with some piece of hardware deep within.

"Hello, Eelo," she said, not looking up from her work. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just telling Talia about that information you found in the logs," Chakotay murmured.

"I see," Iliana said. Her eyes flicked to me, the green in them deepened by the ship's strange lighting. Wiping her greasy hands on a cloth, Iliana stood, stretched her back, and produced a small PADD from one of the pockets in her black jumpsuit. She pressed her thumb to the reader, unlocking it before handing it to me.

It was a collection of information about the cube's last conquest—activity logs, stolen data, archival information about the colony and the species who lived there. As I read, a story began to emerge about the Borg's interactions with the Brunali people and how that had led to the latest attack on a small unadvanced colony of survivors.

They were genetics experts. Once, the Brunali had been a proud spacefaring people whose scientific curiosity drew them to the stars—not unlike Terrans. After the Borg decimated their homeworld, the survivors destroyed their advanced technology and decided to live as an agrarian prewarp society. Most likely, they'd hoped the Borg would judge them to be of no further value to the collective and never return.

Two decades later, one of the Brunali colonies had a change of heart. They launched a small ship into their star system—right in front of a transwarp aperture. When the Borg detected the vessel's warp signature, they snapped it up, traced it back to the colony, and assimilated everyone.

Also included in the files was data about the genetic work that particular colony had been doing. Mostly, it revolved around humanoid genetic modifications that I couldn't make sense of. It was called _Project Icheb_. Attached was another file, but when I tried to open it, the data was too corrupted to read.

I frowned.

"Confused?" Iliana asked. "Those modifications would create an immuno-compromised person, a child born with heightened susceptibility to infection."

"On purpose? Why would anyone do that?"

"Funny you should ask. I sent this data to Kes, and she connected it to the pathogen your team found in all those cadavers you've been studying. She also found the source." Iliana tilted her head and flicked her eyes towards the corridor.

I held up two fingers and mouthed, _Second_?

She nodded.

"Why didn't she inform me? Or Schmullis?"

Iliana's brow rose. "What, so drone-boy could overhear? How do you imagine that would've played out, _Eelo'chali_?"

I glowered.

"I told Kes to send the results directly to my tricorder," Chakotay said. "If our friends here were to get wind of that information, they'd kill him."

He was right. I took a breath, trying to clear my head. "Okay. So, what do we do?"

Chakotay opened his mouth to answer, but Third's voice cut him off as she reported an incoming comm signal.

"Identify the source," First ordered.

"Unknown. It appeares to be a code."

"What does it say?"

"Unknown," one of the twins said. "Decryption algorithms do not recognize it."

"Mind if we take a look?" Chakotay asked. "Lieutenant Commander Eelo and Crewman Ghemor both have experience breaking codes."

Iliana ticked a brow at First, lifting her chin as a smug smile pulled at her lips.

First didn't look impressed, but at least he didn't scowl. "Proceed."

When Third released the data to our tricorders, I recognized it right away.

Korok.

I exchanged a glance with Chakotay, unsure if it was information we should share with the children. He shook his head.

"It looks like a transponder code," Iliana said, not having seen Chakotay's subtle gesture. She stared hard at her tricorder as she made her way to the visual-tactile interface where First and Third stood. Iliana frowned at the readings, then glanced at Chakotay and me. "I think it's Klingon."

"Distance?" First asked.

"Twenty lightyears. They must be boosting the signal to let someone know they're coming."

"Who?"

"Us," Chakotay said, squaring his jaw. "It's Unimatrix Zero."

Iliana frowned. She hadn't been briefed about Korok or our orders to rendezvous with his liberated Borg sphere, and she was clearly not happy at being left out.

First glared at Chakotay. "I said no reinforcements!"

"We didn't call them."

In a move so fast I almost didn't register it, First grabbed Iliana by her thick dark hair, yanked her head back, and plunged his assimilation tubules into her neck. Chakotay and I pulled our phasers, but First was already shouting. "If you discharge your weapon, your crewman will die."

My finger twitched on the trigger, but we both held our fire. Iliana's complexion kept its dull pink color, her eyes were still green, and no implants sprouted from her skin. He hadn't injected her with any nanoprobes. All that kept her from bleeding out were the tubules in her neck.

"These delays are intentional. You tried to deceive us. Give us the deflector now, or you will be assimilated."

"It won't help, you know," Iliana sneered.

"Ghemor," Chakotay warned.

"The collective received your distress call, and they answered it with a self-destruct order."

"Another deception," First said.

"See for yourself," Iliana said, glancing at Third. "Data grid four-two-six. Use decryption protocol theta three."

Third did as Iliana asked without even looking to her admin for approval. After a few tense moments, she turned to First. "She is correct. The transmission is authentic."

"It is a mistake," First insisted.

"You're defective," Iliana growled. "Weak. The collective doesn't want you."

First tightened his grip on her hair, and Iliana grunted. "We are a collective," he snarled, leaning down until his face was centimeters from hers. "You are an individual. You are the one who is weak."

"Perhaps," she said through gritted teeth. "But I'm much smarter than you are. And I'm not alone."

First only had time to frown before Third raised an instrument to his cortical implant and deactivated him. Immediately, the admin's body went limp. His grip on Iliana's hair loosened, and his tubules automatically retracted. Third shoved his body sideways so he wouldn't crush Iliana, and he landed on the deck with a sickening thud.

As the tubules withdrew from her neck, Iliana clapped a hand over the wound. Blood slipped through the spaces between her fingers and, as her breathing became rapid, streamed down from her hand despite her best efforts to staunch the flow.

Then both Iliana and First dissipated.

My mouth dropped open, refusing to make words.

"Mind telling me what the hell just happened?" Chakotay asked.

"I transported them to _Voyager's_ sickbay," Third informed us. "They won't die, and you won't be assimilated."

"I'm gonna need a better explanation than that."

"We've met before," the girl said, "but I had a different face. On Brunal they called me Mezoti, but my real name is Anelina. I am Brenari."


	16. Cold Wind Whispering

**Cold Wind Whispering**

* * *

Once Third—who requested we refer to her as Mezoti—released us, everyone transported to _Voyager_. The other children, though hesitant, agreed to stay with us until we rendezvoused with Unimatrix Zero, at which point they would likely join the other liberated drones. The baby, too, had been transferred to _Voyager_ , though no one was sure yet what to do with him.

Mezoti set the broken cube to self-destruct, and we made our slow way back out of the nebula.

Kes refused to let anyone question Iliana or First until they'd fully recovered from the ordeal, so Captain Janeway interviewed Mezoti. Chakotay, Tuvok, and I joined them in the conference room.

"Tell me," Janeway said to the girl, "when did Crewman Ghemor become aware of your true identity?"

"She recognized me when she came aboard our vessel. She triggered the return of my memories."

Chakotay frowned. "How?"

"She sent a feedback pulse through my interface, then insisted on treating the damage. While she was treating me, she deactivated the neural restructuring that had begun to develop in my cortical implant, which allowed me to access information the maturation process would have destroyed. She told me to act normal, not to say that I remembered anything. She said that if I was careful and did everything she said, we'd come back to _Voyager_ together."

"How did you come to be on Brunal?" Tuvok asked.

"Iliana found out that someone on your ship told the Devore about us. She warned our elder and said she might have a way to help us escape after we were captured. Kir asked her to save me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I am a secret-keeper."

"What is a secret-keeper?" Janeway asked.

"Rarely, Brenari are born with unique genetic traits that cause us to age more slowly than the others. We are called secret-keepers because we collect and preserve stories of our people."

"Like historians," Chakotay said.

Mezoti tilted her head. "Historians study and write. We carry memories. Our telepathy is stronger than the average Brenari, and our lifespans are much longer. The ones you knew as my parents, for example, weren't actually my parents. They were historians. They agreed to pass as my parents so I wouldn't be taken to an orphan camp, or exposed for what I am and taken somewhere worse."

I shook my head. "Wait a minute. Are you a child or an adult?"

"That dichotomy does not apply to us. I am not a child, but I haven't reached physical maturity yet, either."

"And your real parents?"

"Dead," she said, her matter-of-fact delivery making my chest squeeze.

"You're safe with us," Janeway said. "We can restore your natural features and find a way to get you back to your people. We transmitted your logs to Queen Nessav of the Krenim Commonwealth, and she's done a great deal to assist your people since then. I'm sure she'll find a safe place for you to go."

"She already did. She made contact with your crewman after you left Devore space. Iliana helped the queen find me and provided information on how to alter my appearance. The queen arranged for my placement in the Brunal colony herself. Clearly, it didn't go well. Besides, returning to my people isn't my mission."

"Your mission?"

"Elaborate," Tuvok said.

Mezoti narrowed her eyes at the captain. "Where is Annika? I want to talk to her."

"She left us," Janeway said. "We believe she's with Unimatrix Zero."

"Then I'll go with them when your contact arrives."

"That's your prerogative. In the meantime, if you wouldn't mind answering our questions—"

"No," Mezoti said. "It's not for you to know. Besides, your minds are too small for the knowledge I carry. It would overwhelm you."

It was Janeway's turn to narrow her eyes. "Try us."

Mezoti set her small jaw and lifted her chin in defiance, her eyes just as cold and hard as the captain's despite her young appearance. Before much of a staredown could ensue, however, three things happened in rapid succession.

First, bright flashes of light pulled my gaze to the viewport behind Janeway's head. The nebula's blue gasses had thinned, allowing for our first glimpses of the star-speckled space beyond. But there were more than stars outside the nebula's boundaries. Several ships were locked in battle.

Borg ships.

Second, the moment _Voyager_ emerged from the nebula, the three nearest cubes turned their weapons on us. The ship shook and lights dimmed into the flashing crimson of red alert.

Third, the comm system chirped and Tom's panicked voice filled the conference room. "Captain to the bridge."

* * *

"Report," Janeway barked.

"Twelve Borg ships are engaged in battle around the nebula's boundary," Tom said, jogging from the central dais to relieve the junior officer at the conn.

"Sensors didn't detect them until we exited the nebula," Harry said.

Another volley of phaser fire nearly threw me off-balance as I took my station.

"Shields at twenty-eight percent," Tuvok said.

"Can we take shelter in the nebula?" Chakotay asked.

Pulling up the internal sensor array, I took a quick look at _Voyager's_ own systems.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Harry said. "Our shields will corrode in minutes. We wouldn't have time to get far enough from their lines to escape."

He was right. I turned to Mezoti, who had followed me to the science station. "How did you protect your cube from the nebula's gasses?"

"This vessel does not have the necessary technology to complete that modification."

 _Boom_. "Nineteen percent," Tuvok warned.

"Return fire," Janeway said. "How soon will our friends be here?"

"We lost contact with them a few minutes ago," Harry said grimly, "but they were still several days out."

A notification blinked, pulling my attention back to external sensors. " _Equinox_ just cloaked. It looks like they've gone to warp."

"Mr. Paris?"

"I'm trying to track their warp trail," Tom said, "but it's not very strong. I'm not sure how closely I can follow it."

"Do the best you can, Lieutenant. Get us out of here, maximum warp."

Two of the three ships fired simultaneously, causing a bone-jarring jolt and blowing out multiple systems. Lights flickered. It was all I could do to keep from smacking my head on the console.

"Direct hit to both nacelles," Tuvok said. "Shields are at six percent."

"Warp core is offline!" reported Marla Gilmore from the engineering station.

Another jolt. "They have us in a tractor beam," Harry said.

My heart sank. Both hands slid from the control panel into my lap. It was over. Even if we shot out their tractor emitter, there were three of them and one of us, and we couldn't run. We were done for.

"You were wrong about me, Rudy," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"We are the Borg," came the voice of the collective over the comm. "You will be assimilated. Resistance is—"

But they were cut off when another of the cubes shot out their tractor beam and captured us for themselves. For several long and precarious moments, _Voyager_ was jerked around from tractor to tractor, the three Borg ships having been joined by four more and none of them seeming to agree on who should keep us. If we were lucky, they'd tear us apart before we reached anyone's assimilation chamber.

All at once, everything simply stopped. The tractor beams dissipated. The cubes stopped moving, shooting, doing anything against us or one another. My own heart stopped, as well, shock tingling through my body as my hands found their way again to the panel.

"What the hell?" Tom said.

"Report," Janeway demanded.

"I'm getting hundreds—no thousands—of transporter signatures between the cubes," I said.

"Any idea what they're doing?" Chakotay asked.

"There are only two distinct neural frequencies here. One is already growing weaker. The other is coming from the ships sending boarding parties." I looked at Janeway. "I think they're assimilating the other collective's forces into their own."

"And we're right in the middle," she said.

"Captain," Harry interjected, "I'm getting a comm signal. It's being piggy-backed on one of the cube's sensors. Audio only, but it's got a Federation signature."

Janeway stood. "Put it through."

" _Voyager_?" A woman's voice— familiar, but distorted. I couldn't place it. " _Voyager_ , do you read?"

"We hear you."

The woman sighed. "It's good to hear your voice, Captain."

"I'm sorry, do we know you?"

"It's complicated, and I don't have time to explain. The important thing is that I'm not Borg. Er—well, I am Borg, technically, but I'm not part of the hive mind anymore."

"How did you come by a Federation encryption algorithm?"

"I'm a Starfleet officer, ma'am. And right now, I'd really appreciate a rescue. My cube is being boarded. The other Borg ships? They're from a rival collective. They're assimilating us right now. I'm masking my lifesign, but I don't have much time."

"I'm afraid we're not in much better shape than you are."

"Yes you are. Unimatrix Zero is on the way."

Janeway glanced at me. I double-checked the long range sensors and shrugged. "Nothing I can see, but Borg sensors are far superior to ours."

"We've been tracking them, Captain," the woman said. "They jumped to transwarp about an hour ago."

The captain looked from me to Chakotay, who had also gotten to his feet. "Identify yourself," she ordered. "I'd like to confirm that you are what you say you are."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I'd like to make that call for myself, if you don't mind."

The woman paused, took a shaky breath, then said, "It's me, Captain. Lyndsay Ballard. Ensign. Service number WF-131-859. Look, I know you think this is a trap, but you have to believe me. I don't have much time. Please don't leave me to the Borg."

I knew Janeway well enough to guess she intended to help, but she'd come to depend on Chakotay's careful skepticism to balance her more intrepid impulses. She held his gaze for just a moment.

He nodded.

"Alright," she said.

"You'll have to come closer so my transporter signal doesn't get noticed. I'm sending you my coordinates."

"Got it," Harry confirmed. "It's the cube closest to the nebula. Thirteen kilometers starboard."

"That's gonna take some careful navigating," Tom warned. "Let's hope we don't attract the Borg's attention."

"Shadow maneuvers," I said.

"I beg your pardon?" Janeway asked.

"It's a trick we used in the Maquis. Reduce power to thrusters, drop life support to five percent, and cut power to all other systems."

"I'm not sure it'll work so well on a ship this size," Chakotay said. "Even at a minimum power output, we can't hide from their sensors."

"The Borg are a bit preoccupied at the moment," Lyndsay said. "I doubt they'll notice low-level readings."

"We'll be there shortly, Ms Ballard. Janeway out." The hint of a smile tugged at the captain's lips as she threw a glance my way. "Shadow maneuvers." She returned to her seat. "Do it."

Chakotay followed suit.

"Reducing power to thrusters," Tom said.

"Setting life support at minimum and cutting power to nonessential systems," Harry said. Everything but emergency systems shut down, plunging us into a darkness broken only by dim shafts of light along the deck and bulkheads.

"Setting a course," Tom said.

Slowly but surely, we made our way to Lyndsay's cube on barely-powered thrusters, hoping against hope that she was right—that the Borg were too busy assimilating each other to pay attention to us.

It was a gamble all around. If the Borg did notice us, how would they react? What if we got there and they detected Lyndsay's transport anyway? What if it wasn't Lyndsay? And even if everything did go well, what then? We still had no engines, no shields, and little hope. Eventually, one collective would consume the other and they'd all be united against us. We still had weapons, and could hold them off for a few minutes at most, but after that…

"Approaching coordinates," Tom said.

"All stop," Janeway ordered. "Harry, bring up communications and inform Miss Ballard that we're ready."

"Aye, Captain."

There was silence on the bridge while Harry relayed the message, and I relaxed into it. We'd made it without fuss—a small relief, but still I took a deep breath.

"We have her, Captain."

Just then, my sensors lit up like the sun. "Transporter signatures! The Borg are returning to their ships. I'm only getting one neural link now."

"Red alert," Janeway said. Immediately, _Voyager's_ systems were back up. "Reroute all available power to the shields. Prepare to take us into the nebula."

"Captain—" I started to protest, but my station cut me off with a shrill notification. "Transwarp conduit, two hundred kilometers aft."

"On screen."

The viewscreen flickered to life just in time to catch the aperture yawn open and spit out an entire fleet of Borg cubes and spheres.

"Well," Tom said, "either we're saved or we're fucked."

As if in answer, the cubes surrounding us moved into formation, placing themselves between us and the newcomers. A moment later, they opened fire.

"We're being hailed," Harry said. "It's General Korok."

Janeway shot to her feet. "Put him through."

But the voice that greeted us didn't belong to Korok. It belonged to Annika.

"Captain Janeway," she said.

"It's good to hear from you," Janeway said.

"And you, as well. Our scans show your impulse engines are down, which will make this more difficult but not impossible. Once sufficient cover has been established, you will need to come within ten kilometers of General Korok's vessel. I am sending you the coordinates now. We will tractor you into our holding bay and retreat to our nearest base of operations. Is _Equinox_ with you?"

"No. They fled as soon as we left the nebula."

"Understood," Annika said, her voice emotionless. "Our fleet are attempting to draw the Borg away from you. Please be efficient. Hansen out."

For a while, we watched in silence as both sides of the war battered each other. Try as they might, Korok's forces couldn't seem to distract the Borg enough to give us an opening. Without the regenerative capabilities of a neuroelectric field, Unimatrix Zero took a beating.

"Are we really doing this?" I asked. "Leaving _Equinox_ behind?"

"We don't have much choice in the matter," Chakotay said.

"I know. I just—" My throat tightened, making my words a choked whisper. "—I promised him we'd get his people home."

Chakotay's face softened, empathy overtaking the hardened features.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Janeway said, her expression pained, "but Mister Burke made his choice. We'll just have to track him down later." When one of the liberated cubes lost power and began to drift, she turned to Tuvok. "I think it's time we lent them a hand."

"Attacking the Borg will be difficult with only thrusters."

"We won't be attacking them—at least, not overtly. Arm two photon torpedoes for remote detonation and prepare them for transport. We're going to sneak them inside the Borg ships."

Tuvok nodded. Soon enough, he reported that the payloads were ready.

"Mister Kim?"

"On it."

Seconds ticked by, dragging on longer than they should have. One of the enemy cubes fired a sustained beam at a small liberated sphere, causing our ally to shatter like an old glass light fixture. Combusting antimatter flashed briefly within the glittering shards of bulkhead, then succumbed to the cold, dark vacuum around it. I double-checked my sensors—it wasn't Korok's sphere—and let out a shaky breath.

Another nearby ally let loose a barrage of angry green phaser fire, carving a hole in the Borg ship.

"Torpedo is in place," Harry said.

"Blow it."

Before the Borg vessel could even begin to repair their damage, an explosion somewhere within the ship caused a cascade failure. It, too, burst into billions of tiny pieces.

"Cut power to all non-essential systems except for transporters and thrusters," Janeway said. "Tom, get us out of here."

"Aye, Captain."

Slowly, _Voyager_ wove through the destruction all around us. The Borg weren't having an easy day, but Korok's forces were definitely taking heavier casualties. The battle wasn't sustainable. We couldn't win. All we could do was run.

Directly to port, the other enemy ship guarding us took a particularly hard hit from two of Korok's vessels. Harry jumped at the opportunity, planting the second torpedo somewhere deep within its twisted bulkheads. The explosion didn't set off a cascade reaction, but it did disable the vessel enough to knock out its power. The green lights seeping from within its bare frame blinked and were snuffed out.

Still, I couldn't help but feel the eyes of ten thousand drones as we passed by the cube's darkened face.

"Cut power to transporters," Janeway said. "Steady as she goes."

By the time we made it to Korok's ship, half of his fleet had been destroyed or seriously damaged. How would they make it back to their base?

"Cut thrusters."

The moment _Voyager_ stopped moving, Korok snapped us up in a tractor beam. For the second time in days, I watched through a viewscreen as a Borg ship swallowed me whole.

Just as we were reaching the holding bay doors, a sensor display caught my eye. Two of Korok's ships drifted towards the Borg line so slowly they must have been using thrusters. They were too heavily damaged to do much else. As the holding bay doors squeezed shut, I watched the two green dots on my screen vanish in a coordinated act of self-destruction, blowing a portion of the enemy fleet away with them.

Then, safe inside the belly of Korok's ship, we fled.


	17. Kingdom Come

**Kingdom Come**

 _Source Episode: VOY 6x18 Ashes to Ashes_

 _A/N: Thanks to Caladeniablue for helping me edit this chapter!_

* * *

Once we were out of harm's way, all of the stress that had kept me going for so long dissipated. There was still so much to do, so much to discuss, but my body was just about done. Thankfully, Captain Janeway relieved us all for the night with orders not to return until we'd had at least a few hours of sleep.

But Harry and I couldn't resist the urge to visit sickbay first.

Despite knowing what was waiting for us there, the sight of Lyndsay alive and covered in cybernetic implants was still a shock. She sat on the surgical bay biobed, presumably behind a force field, while Schmullis scanned and prodded and took samples.

Her brown hair was gone. Fair skin had become an almost transparent gray, dark lines of nanoprobe-infested blood vessels twisting along the bones and muscles beneath. Her one remaining eye had gone from hazel-green to gray, and the other had been removed to make room for her ocular implant. They'd taken an arm, as well, replaced by a multi-tool implant installed on engineering drones.

Harry froze in the doorway, his grip tightening on mine and his stiff arm jerking me to a stop.

Lyndsay forced a smile. "I was wondering when you guys would show up."

A tremor passed through Harry's hand. "I watched you die."

"In glorious battle, no less."

"How?"

"Well, the quick version is that the Borg have access to technologies we can't even begin to understand. They picked up my pod, did their thing, and _abracadabra_! I'm back from the dead." She embellished her story with a dramatic wave like a showman performing to an audience. "Pretty great other than—" she lifted the implant on her left arm— "this whole get-up. And the part where I was a drone. That was ass."

Harry took a step forward, still clinging to my hand. Then another. And another.

By the time we reached the edge of the surgical bay, Schmullis had finished his exam. "I've compared her DNA with the genetic samples from Ensign Ballard's file. They match." Setting down his instruments, the doctor wheeled his tray towards the bay's boundaries and nodded at one of the security guards.

The guard released the force field.

Harry stepped into the surgical bay, his hand slipping from mine, as Lyndsay slid off the biobed. "So it's really you?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "In the flesh... so to speak."

The way his face melted told me he'd decided to believe her. Soon enough, he was pulling her into a tight hug.

She smiled, closing her eye and allowing a tear to fall. "I've missed you, too."

The _whoosh_ of doors announced more visitors—Captain Janeway and Tal Celes. As they approached, Janeway crossed her arms and shot a look at Schmullis. "I hope this means you've confirmed her identity, Doctor."

Harry released his hold on Lyndsay and stepped back, wiping tears from his eyes. "It was my fault, Captain. I broke security protocol."

"And disobeyed orders," she said. The twinkle in her eyes and smirk on her lips framed the words as a tease even as her tone implied a rebuke.

"Lyndsay?" Celes choked out, her voice failing her. All color had drained from her face. "Is... is it... is that you?"

"It's me, _ja'Tal_ ," Lyndsay murmured back. All the jocularity in her demeanor had disappeared, replaced by the weight of love and loss and hope.

"Ma'am?" asked one of the security officers.

Janeway held up a halting hand.

With cautious steps, Celes made her way to the place where Lyndsay stood. "I can't believe you're real. Are you... real?"

Lyndsay stepped forward, closing the short distance between them, and pulled Celes into a deep kiss. Celes's arms circled around Lyndsay's armored body, and Lyndsay's hand caressed her partner's face.

I wove my fingers between Harry's and squeezed, smiling when he glanced down at me. He pressed a kiss into my hair.

When the couple finally broke apart, Lyndsay rested her forehead against Celes's. "I'm real, Tal. I'm real, I'm home, and I'm never leaving you again."

"Thank the Prophets," Celes whispered.

Indeed.

And although I got the sense that Captain Janeway's visit had been intended for more than simply escorting Celes, she followed Harry and me out of sickbay less than a minute later, leaving the two lovers within clinging to one another and weeping with joy.

* * *

The next day was a flurry of activity. Having arrived at the Unity Alliance base in the early hours of the morning, _Voyager_ left her hiding place in Korok's sphere and docked at a repair station orbiting a planet the Zahl called Sinoso. It was less than a light year from the last comm net node this side of the border between quadrants, so Captain Janeway was up early to share updates with Queen Nessav and to schedule meetings with our allies.

Eleven lightyears. We were eleven lightyears from the Beta Quadrant.

After the usual morning senior staff briefing, Janeway asked me to stay for a meeting with Annika and Lyndsay. Chakotay had his hands full overseeing repairs and running alpha shift, but I knew Janeway would fill him in later. The room sat in uncomfortable silence until Tuvok returned with Annika in tow, the pair taking seats opposite me and Lyndsay.

Annika seemed even less Borg than she had when she left us. She wore short sleeves, and the only implant visible on her arms was the exoskeleton reinforcing her left hand, wrist, and forearm—something she'd probably opted to keep for practical purposes. Her civvies were more form-fitting than her uniform had been, yet there was a noticeable lack of bulges and lines from the exoplating that once armored her torso. The outward portion of her cortical implant had been almost completely erased, only a thin metal eyebrow left as a way to interface with the cybernetic systems that lay beneath.

Other than that, she looked exactly as I remembered her—long angular face, golden-blonde hair falling to her shoulders, fair skin glowing with a healthy pink hue that spoke of regular sun lamp exposure, and piercing blue-green eyes. She walked with a confident stride and sat with a posture that, while still proper, no longer spoke of stiff discomfort.

"Captain Janeway," she said, inclining her head. She glanced over to offer me the same greeting. "Lieutenant Commander Eelo. I hope you are both well."

"All things considered," Janeway said, "I'd say we're doing alright. You remember Ensign Ballard?"

Annika nodded at the ex-drone next to me. "I do, although it seems some important changes have taken place since our battle with General Annorax. Perhaps we should begin there."

"Very well. Ensign?"

Lyndsay shifted, looking a bit surprised by Annika's eagerness to get to the point. "Oh. Um, okay. Well, uh, I guess the last thing I remember was being on Harry's unit trying to take _Solassat's_ engine room. A Krenim soldier was about to shoot out a conduit by Ayala's team. I wasn't even thinking, I just had to stop it. I yelled, jumped out of line, and then..."

She shook her head. "The next thing I remember is waking up strapped to a table in a Borg lab. It didn't feel like I'd been assimilated, except I had implants. It was like a bad dream where what you fear the most is twisted in some way your conscious mind would never think to twist it. There was a stasis chamber beside me... and I was inside. Not me, of course, but another version of me. No implants. She was wearing a dress uniform laser-cut right down the middle, and she had a big black hole in her chest like she'd been shot with a phaser set to kill. I kept thinking, 'I'll wake up eventually,' like it was all a dream—"

Janeway held up a hand. "Hold on just one moment. Are you saying that the Borg didn't revive you, but that you're actually a—"

"A clone of Lyndsay Ballard?" she interrupted. "I think so. At least, that's my best guess."

"Were you aware that the Borg possessed this technology, Miss Hansen?" Tuvok asked.

"Yes. It is not new, though knowledge of it is not widespread within the collective. The Borg acquired it from species two nine six, Vorta. I believe the Federation is familiar with their cloning capabilities."

"The Dominion," I said.

"Correct. We have yet to determine what the Borg use this technology for."

"I think you just found your answer," Janeway said.

Annika ticked her eyebrow. "Perhaps."

"Please continue, Miss Ballard," Tuvok said.

"Well, eventually a drone came in. She looked like she could've been Terran once—course, I know now she's El-Aurian. It was the queen herself, come to assimilate me."

"Loran?" I asked.

"No. The queen of a different faction. At the time, there weren't factions, and she was just the primary administrative drone for unimatrix zero one. She's called Ashan. I don't know why she wanted to assimilate me herself. She just walked up, smiled down at me, said, 'Good, you're awake.' Then she assimilated me.

"After that, I don't remember anything. Like, I know things. I know I was an engineering drone. I know how to do engineering tasks on a Borg ship. That sort of stuff. But I don't have memories. Not until our collective fell to Loran's collective yesterday and I somehow got disconnected from the hive mind. That's when I contacted you."

"How much of your previous memory have you retained?" Annika asked.

"What, you mean from _Voyager_?"

"Yes. Technical specifications of this vessel and of _Equinox_ , for example."

Lyndsay frowned, seeming to think about this for several seconds. "I _think_ I remember everything. It might be a little rusty, but I could go back to work today if I needed to."

"Then we must presume the Borg know everything Ensign Ballard knew," Annika said, turning back to the captain.

"Meaning they might be able to track down _Equinox_ ," Janeway said.

"Shit," I muttered.

"I'm sorry," Lyndsay whispered.

I touched her arm. "It's not your fault."

"I know, but still..."

Janeway folded her hands. "Thank you, Ensign. You may go."

Lyndsay nodded, and the room fell silent as she left. The hissing of the doors seemed to enhance the general sense of tension permeating the room—permeating me.

"Now," Janeway said, drawing my attention back to the meeting. "Annika, I believe it's your turn to explain yourself."

Annika's arms tightened against her sides. "Yes, but first we must come to an understanding."

"Oh? What about?"

"General Korok wishes for me to be the liaison on _Voyager_ representing unimatrix zero. I confess, I am eager to return. _Voyager_ became my collective—my... _home_ —while I was here." She paused, collected herself, then continued in a clearer voice that swelled as she spoke. "That being said, while I will respect your authority aboard _Voyager,_ I must also respect the wishes of those I represent. During this meeting, for example, you may ask me questions, but I reserve the right not to answer. There are delicate matters involved with the circumstances of my departure, and it is best at this juncture not to discuss them."

Janeway's posture straightened, spine snapping taught and arms crossing in warning. As she lifted her chin, those blue eyes flashed like lightning above a churning sea. "So, what you're saying is that your actions were part of a classified mission above and beyond the mission I sent you on as a member of _my_ crew, after which you defected to unimatrix zero whose leadership still believes I shouldn't know the truth despite what my crew and I have sacrificed to help them."

"I understand your frustration, Captain, but it is not a slight against you or this crew. On the contrary, this knowledge must be guarded in order to protect you, and to ensure our success against the Borg. You know as well as I do that, while the division of the collective will delay their progress for a time, they will recover and push forward into the Alpha Quadrant."

My thoughts strayed to the terrible future I'd seen in dreams and visions—a thin barrier separating us from the Borg, the alarm on Deep Space Nine when the collective broke through, Annika forced into being the queen's messenger and demanding me as tribute, General Worf insisting that the Borg had no honor, the Emissary calling me into the Celestial Temple. I thought of what had happened after the final vision's end, when I challenged Captain Janeway about how to respond.

" _They'll bring war to the Federation_ ," I'd said, " _and, eventually, win that one, too_."

"Perhaps," Janeway was saying to Annika, her voice low as she leaned forward and narrowed those stormy eyes on our former crewman. "But let me make myself abundantly clear. If you ever harm a member of my crew again, use them against their will or without their knowledge, I don't give a damn if it's for the greater good or not. I _will_ consider that an act of aggression and you _will_ be held accountable according to our laws. Do we have an understanding, Miss Hansen?"

Although I knew her words were in defense of me, my insides still recoiled from the venom in her tone. I never held Annika's actions against her, but Janeway clearly did.

Annika didn't even flinch. "Yes, Captain."

"Good. Now that we have that settled, I'd like to know what you know about the Borg and how we're going to stop them."

With a slight nod, Annika sat back and began to explain. "Loran was the administrator of unimatrix zero two. You refer to her as a 'queen,' which is an even more apt term than it was before the splitting of the collective.

"For more than a century, the Borg have existed as one single collective brought to order by six primary administrative drones. However, it seems Loran wishes to be the only administrator over all of the unimatrices. Not long after our mission to liberate unimatrix zero, Loran overwhelmed unimatrix zero three, located near what the Federation refers to as the J-25 system, using the primary transwarp hub."

"Transwarp hub?" I asked. "I haven't heard of that before."

"I'm not surprised. The transwarp hubs form a series of interconnected transwarp conduits. The Borg assimilated this technology with the El-Aurian species more than two hundred years ago. It has allowed them to assimilate hundreds of species previously beyond their reach and build unimatrices across the galaxy. They have since adapted the technology to build transwarp coils for their vessels, but the hubs are more stable and their conduits can traverse much greater distances."

"Could these conduits extend all the way to Earth?" Janeway asked.

"Or Cardassia?" I added, the visions still lingering in my mind.

"Yes, although it is more likely that such conduits would originate in the Beta Quadrant hub as it is closer to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Where is that hub located?" Tuvok asked.

"Approximately two thousand light years from our present location in the El-Aurian system. Now that Loran has conquered unimatrix zero one, she controls three of the six transwarp hubs."

I frowned. "That battle seemed a little small to be the deciding factor in taking an entire collective."

"The battle you witnessed was one of many. Loran used her greater numbers to draw Ashan's forces into multiple simultaneous confrontations, leaving unimatrix zero one—and thus Ashan herself—vulnerable to invasion. Loran does not need to defeat an entire collective. She only needs to assimilate their queen."

Janeway tapped her fingers on the table. "Let's get back to these transwarp hubs. Is there a way to destabilize the conduits—cut the Borg off from expanding any further?"

Annika nodded. "We devised a similar solution. The hubs are located within each unimatrix. They will be difficult to infiltrate, but it is possible so long as we are able to complete another mission first."

"Which is?"

"At the moment, three of the six hubs are disconnected from the network to prevent an attack from a rival collective. We intend to return the Borg to their natural state by reunifying the remaining queens. The Borg will reopen conduits connecting all six hubs, at which point we will capture and destroy the network entirely."

The slightest of frowns crossed Tuvok's face. "Will the Borg not be able to simply rebuild a new transwarp network?"

"They will not. The Borg have attempted to recreate the technology many times, but have never been successful. The collective will be spread too thinly across the quadrant to continue assimilating new species in an efficient way, and the queens will consolidate their forces. They will return to their own space in the Delta Quadrant."

It was my turn to frown. "That might help us, but it won't help our allies here. Has Queen Nessav approved this?"

"No. Many of our forces have been out of contact with the Krenim Commonwealth since the liberation."

"I'd like to wait and see what she says before I make up my mind," Janeway said.

Annika nodded. "Of course. There is one other thing. Regardless of whether or not we move forward with this plan, it would be to our advantage to understand the origin of the Borg and these so-called 'queens.' The collective's memory prior to the assimilation of El-Aurian is fragmentary, and prior to the twenty-second century it is non-existent. If we are to unite the queens and their collectives, we will need to understand how they were first united. If, however, our allies choose to move in a different direction, the information would still be quite valuable to our common cause."

"Agreed," Janeway said, drawing out the word like an invitation to say more.

"We believe the most logical place to look is the Vaadwaur homeworld. They were the original species to discover and utilize the underspace network. Any records left behind after their destruction may contain clues into the collective's history."

"Uh, not to be a downer," I said, "but the Turei have that system locked up and guarded like an Obsidian Order base of operations. There's no way we could get in, and even if we could, it would be a serious breach of our alliance."

Annika's one blonde brow lifted. "That will only be a problem if we are discovered. Initially, we had intended to ask Captain Ransom to take us there aboard _Equinox_ , using the vessel's cloaking capabilities to complete the mission undetected. As an alternative, I propose you contact the Srivani for assistance."

I shook my head. "I don't like it, and I doubt they will, either."

"You have strong diplomatic relations with their leadership, Commander. Convince them."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Janeway held up a hand. "There might be another way to get the information you want."

"Explain."

"That signal we were sent into the nebula to find? It was a damaged Borg cube. Most of the drones were dead. Only a few of the children in maturation chambers survived. One of those children is a Brenari secret-keeper, carrying generations of history and memories in her head."

For the first time since walking into the room, Annika's cool affect cracked. She flinched as if she'd been struck. "Brenari?" she asked quietly.

"It's Anelina," I said. "Queen Nessav got her out of the Devore work camp and hid her on another world. It's a long story, but she's here."

"On _Voyager_ ," Annika said, eyeing me skeptically.

"Yes," Janeway confirmed, her tone softening. "She wants to see you."


	18. Burned by the Dark

**Burned by the Dark**

* * *

The next day, Janeway called me into sickbay to debrief Iliana.

The former Obsidian Order agent looked well enough. Her wound had healed and Kes expected to release her by the end of alpha shift. She sat propped against a pillow on the biobed, her expression a mix of annoyance and disinterest as Janeway, Tuvok, and I shuffled in between her bed and the privacy field.

"Computer," Tuvok said, "secure the area around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine."

The computer trilled. "Voiceprint authorization confirmed. Biobed two security field in place."

"Begin recording."

Another trill in confirmation.

Iliana crossed her arms.

Janeway read the unspoken message in Iliana's gesture. "Alright, let's cut to the chase. Who sold the Brenari out to the Devore?"

"Ensign Jennifer Delaney."

"Why?"

Iliana shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask her."

"How did you know she was talking to the Devore?"

Iliana ran her tongue over her teeth, her expression growing more annoyed. She said nothing.

"It's hard," I said, "giving up your secrets to people you don't trust. You told me a long time ago that you thought Jen and her sister were interested in me. You implied I should keep an eye on them."

Iliana smirked. "Caught that, did you?"

"I did. We have suspicions about them. So do you. Problem is, neither one of us can trust the other enough to start sharing our suspicions. But Terrans have a saying. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I think it applies now. We'll all be in a much better place to do something about our common problem if we work together."

Iliana lifted her chin. "Alright then. Tell me what you know."

"You are not in a position to make demands, Miss Ghemor," Tuvok said.

"I disagree. I played enough poker while I was with the Maquis to know how this works." She turned those calculating green eyes on Janeway. "You came to me, captain. You raised the stakes. That means you show your hand first."

Janeway examined Iliana, arms crossed like a mirror image of the other woman. "Alright. We have it on good authority that Ensign Delaney works for a Federation secret service agency known as Section 31. It is largely unknown to most Federation citizens and members of Starfleet, and those who are aware of its existence like to turn a blind eye to its activities.

"We've kept this information to ourselves while we investigate Miss Delaney's activities and motives, but we are keen to gather as much information as we can to expose Section 31's crimes to important stakeholders in our government and the governments of our allies. I'd imagine you agree the organization should be disbanded, no?"

A wicked smile crossed Iliana's face. "Yes, I would."

"Then tell me how you knew she sold us out to the Devore."

"You won't like it."

Janeway placed her hands on the biobed's railing and leaned in. "At this point, I don't give a damn what you've done. I just need to know what you know."

Iliana's smile widened. "Music to my ears, Captain."

Janeway straightened, crossing her arms again as if to say, _I'm listening._

"It's simple." Iliana said. "I hacked her and Megan's IDs, planted a little bug in there to report back to me with their activities. Most of it is rather dull, but every now and again I find something interesting."

"Why offer to help the Brenari?" I asked. "After all this time sitting on what you know, collecting intel, why risk it for them?"

Iliana's bravado slipped. Her arms fell, hands dropping into her lap, and for the first time she couldn't meet our eyes. "I was weak," she muttered, shaking her head. "Sentimental and weak."

"You were unaware of the child's importance?" Tuvok asked.

She scoffed. "No, Tuvok. I didn't know anything about her. I still don't."

"Then why do it?" Janeway asked.

But I knew the answer already. I knew it in my _pagh_ , in that deep and empty place where Rojel's death had carved a hole that would never heal. It was the same reason I'd been so desperate to save the Borg fetus the moment I saw him. "You couldn't stand to let another child die when you had the power to save her," I murmured.

" _Pagh rokaya_ ," Iliana said, still staring at her hands.

"I beg your pardon?" Janeway asked.

"She says I'm right," I answered, my voice wavering slightly. I cleared my throat and met the captain's eyes, allowing her to see the pain on my face and hoping she'd see it for the message it was.

We were cutting into a nerve.

Janeway nodded, relaxing her stance before turning back to Iliana. "So you offered to help them escape. But how?"

Iliana looked up, eyes hard like gemstones. "I put a tracker into the girl's arm and planted bombs in the others. I told them they didn't all have to die, but they wanted to give her a better chance at escape." She shrugged. "I guess she was important. Her logs had a code hidden in it to sync to her tracker. Hansen sent those logs to the Krenim queen, so that's who found her. Nessav contacted me about a week later to ask for help hiding her. I told her to change the girl's identity and appearance. We never spoke again after that."

"Yet you recognized her when you boarded the Borg cube," Tuvok said, "despite her being surgically altered and partially assimilated."

"I have sharp eyes."

"Were you not aware that Anelina would be on that Borg vessel?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Yet you possessed the tools necessary to recall her suppressed memories?"

"I didn't need anything special. It's not hard as long as you know what you're doing. I saw an opportunity to give myself the advantage, and I took it. You should be thanking me. I had more foresight than any of your Starfleet people did."

"Perhaps if you had informed us of your plans, we could have been better prepared."

Iliana snorted. "You're welcome. Any other questions?"

Janeway spoke next. "I want any and all records you've kept regarding Megan and Jennifer Delaney, as well as anything else you might have on Section 31."

Iliana's brows rose. "Quite a request, Captain. What do I get out of this exchange?"

Janeway placed both hands on her hips and lifted her chin, seeming to fill up the tiny space. "That's not a request, nor will it be an exchange. If those records are not on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, I'll have Lieutenant Commander Tuvok personally escort you to the brig. Do I make myself clear?"

A strange, amused sort of smile split Iliana's face. "Very."

The captain's affect remained as cold and hard as a stone. "Good. Then we're done here."

"Computer," Tuvok said, "end recording and deactivate security protocols around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine."

"Voiceprint authorization confirmed," the computer responded. "Biobed two security field deactivated."

"Captain," I said, "I'd like to stay and have a private word with Crewman Ghemor, if that's alright."

Janeway nodded, then turned to leave the privacy field with Tuvok trailing behind her.

"Hope you don't mind," I said, perching on the chair beside her bed.

Iliana eyed me suspiciously. "What do you want, Eelo?"

I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. "When did you find out about Marnah?"

"Find what out?"

I shook my head. "There was a time when you wanted me to be suspicious of her. You may have backpedaled on that one, but now I know what you meant. I know what she was, what she wanted. When did you find out?"

"When my memories returned."

"So Seska never knew?"

She smirked. "Seska suspected the General was still a powerfully-placed person in the Federation. I didn't know what game your mother was playing, but it was obvious she had a prime seat at the table. Why do you think I cozied up to her?"

"Then why did you throw it out the airlock to fuck Chakotay?"

Iliana laughed. "Are you still hung up on that? I thought you'd moved on from him."

Resentment reared in my chest, and I bristled. "It has _nothing_ to do with Chakotay. It's about you and your manipulations and how fucking mad it made me that you used everyone around you without giving a shit about their feelings—and how Marnah respected you more than me because of it."

She shrugged. "What can I say? She was never the kind of person you wanted her to be, and Seska was cut from the same cloth. Besides, if the General could see us now, there'd be no question which of us she'd respect. She'd kill me on the spot. It's no use being jealous anymore."

For a moment, we fell into silence. What could I say? She was right, of course, but I couldn't stand to admit such a thing. More than that, I struggled to stay above thoughts that floated in the depths of my mind, threatening to sink me—thoughts of Marnah being tortured by Dukat's men until nothing of her was left, of her being put into stasis and stored like an artifact rather than a person. I shook my head, refusing to let myself go there.

"Why _did_ you join the Maquis?" Iliana asked.

The question seemed like a non sequitor. "What?"

"You were never going to fit in with the other Bajorans, Eelo. Especially not resistance fighters. And it wasn't your war to fight. What were you expecting to get out of it?"

"You know why."

"I know the General manipulated you into doing what she wanted."

"She didn't want me to join the Maquis."

"Bullshit," Iliana hissed. "She may have told you that, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I'd be willing to bet she was following someone else's orders on that one."

I frowned, thinking back to the fallout of Marnah's resignation from Starfleet, her turn to the resistance. I'd been stationed at Alpha Trianguli III along the Federation-Cardassian border when the Cardassians left Bajor. Terok Nor station was ceded to the Bajoran people, and they asked the Federation to help them hold it. Finally, I'd have a chance to see the world where Marnah had come from.

Then the orders came. I was recalled to Earth and assigned to Starfleet Medical HQ. They gave me a promotion but no explanation as to why they suddenly wanted me away from the border. When I arrived, they detained me and questioned me about Marnah's betrayal until I began to doubt my own motives. I begged for a deep space assignment far away from the conflict but was denied. They made me increasingly miserable until I simply couldn't take the abuse anymore.

"They wanted me to resign," I whispered. "They pulled strings with Starfleet Intelligence and Command to pressure me, make me so miserable that I left... and I ran right into the arms of the Maquis."

"Took you long enough to figure that out," Iliana said. "I thought you fleeters were supposed to be smart."

Her words didn't even land. I may as well have simply vanished from the room. My stomach had become stone, my limbs disconnected, my head a kite carried away by the cold wind of a new realization. Nothing—not a single one of my choices before _Voyager_ —had ever been mine. And since then?

I shook my head. "I have to go." Jumping to my feet, I practically sprinted out of sickbay.

* * *

After my talk with Iliana, the morning seemed to drag on endlessly. I was distracted, unable to focus on departmental reports. My entire life was a series of reactions to the manipulation of others with more power than me. Had I ever made a choice on my own?

Joining Starfleet? It had been a dream of mine since childhood, but it was also a family expectation. Only my sister bucked that, and she always was the odd one in our family system.

Becoming a counselor? I was inspired by Aunt Aradne as well as a psychology professor at academy prep, but the choice had been my own. Dad had supported it. Marnah was furious. But my choice had been co-opted from the beginning. I'd wanted to be a deep space counselor on a ship. Instead, the most interesting part of my career before _Voyager_ was Alpha Tri.

Even since being flung across the galaxy, far from the influence of Marnah and Section 31, I'd been manipulated by the Prophets, Q, Susperia, and, yes, somehow even Section 31.

Prophets.

The PADD in my hand fell to the desk with a clatter, but I barely even noticed. I needed to talk to the Prophet. It meant facing the thing I'd been avoiding for weeks—the Orb of Peace and the Emissary housed within. The prospect made my insides twist painfully, but I knew his true identity. There was no need for him to take on the appearance of Marnah or anyone else.

It was time for me to properly meet Captain Benjamin Sisko.

* * *

"It took you long enough to come and see me."

At the end of my shift, I'd immediately contacted Tuvok to arrange for some time with the orb in his quarters. I'd barely opened the box before I was swept into a vision of an empty white room where I stood alone with the Emissary himself.

"I thought time wasn't a concern for the Prophets," I said.

"I'm not a Prophet."

I laughed and considered the man. "My grandma had a saying. 'If it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck.'" I gestured towards him. "You seem pretty Prophet-like to me."

His lips curled up and parted in a wide smile. "You have no idea what I'm like."

"Alright, Captain Not-A-Prophet," I said, crossing my arms and forcing confidence into my voice, "tell me something. Why are you manipulating me?"

"Manipulating?" he echoed. "I'm not manipulating you."

"Trapping Marnah behind enemy lines so the Caretaker would snatch our ship instead of hers? Giving me visions, insisting _Voyager_ ally with the Borg to create a weapon that could destroy an entire race? Helping to create an entirely new kind of being in Alixia and sending her to me with visions of a future in which the Borg overtake the Alpha Quadrant? Telling the Unity One co-op to travel halfway across this quadrant just to bring me the orb you had me make for them?"

"I've manipulated some events," he conceded, "but I haven't manipulated you."

"You're manipulating events around me in order to force me to act."

"Force? No. I've guided you, your comrades, your mother, and your friends, but I haven't forced anyone to do anything. There's a difference."

I frowned. "No, there really isn't. Either way, you took away my freedom to choose."

"Changing your options is not the same thing as taking your freedom."

"It's coercion," I snapped, arms falling to my sides and hands balling into fists. "Which means you're no better than Marnah or Section 31. No better than the Borg."

He raised his brows. "That sounds like black-and-white thinking."

"Don't you dare use therapy terms on me!" I shouted, my closely-held emotions all coalescing into a fury that exploded through every cell in my body.

It may have seemed petty to most, but he was a command officer—a bunch notorious for bucking the wisdom of mental health professionals yet acting as if they were such experts in everything. Dying and becoming a Prophet—or whatever he was now—didn't change the human biases of his past. Of all people, he had no right to lecture me about cognitions.

Still, I hadn't meant to get so angry, but I was wounded—wounded from Marnah's lies and Seska's betrayal, from Starfleet and Section 31, from the brutal war between the Maquis and the Cardassian Union, from Jen Delaney and Tom, from losing Rojel, from Captain Ransom's death, and from all the other ways my life had been torn to shreds over and over again.

Blood roared in my ears as all my pent-up feelings finally broke free, projected onto this man. "You use your power to bend everyone else to your will, not caring about how that might affect us—how much damage you might cause to someone's life or relationships or mental health. What right do you have to do what you've done and pass yourself off as some kind of superior form of life? None. You hear me? _You have no right_. So, fuck you. Fuck you and your power trip. Fuck you and your plans. Find someone else to control. I won't play your games anymore."

The tirade left me breathless, but my _pagh_ felt suddenly weightless as if those feelings had all been chains holding my deepest self down in a dark dungeon and now I was finally free to reach for the light.

I'd expected anger or offense, or perhaps even condescension, but Sisko's face filled instead with sympathy and sorrow. "There was a time when I was like you," he said softly, his deep, smooth voice becoming gravelly for the first time. "A time when I, too, chose to ignore the counsel of the Prophets. I thought I was doing the right thing, standing up for myself, doing my duty as a Starfleet captain instead of falling for the flowery, pretentious bullshit I kept getting from the Prophets." He clenched his jaw, and I knew he was trying hard to swallow his own pain.

"What happened?" I asked, my anger ebbing away.

"I lost one of my dearest friends... Jadzia Dax."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. His admission disarmed me completely.

"I also allowed a _Pah'wraith_ to seal the wormhole and darken the orbs—that is, all but two."

"The Orb of Peace," I whispered.

"And the Orb of the Emissary. That orb revealed a new path to me—the path of the Prophets. It drew Ezri Dax to me and reopened the wormhole, but nothing can change the fact that I cost Jadzia her life."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." He lifted his chin, steel returning to his posture and authority to his voice. "But that was a different life. I tell you that so you won't make the same mistake I did. I haven't come here to take away your free will. I came to show you a new path laid by the Prophets, but only you can choose whether or not to walk it."

"And if I choose not to?"

"Then maybe another will choose to walk it in your place. Maybe not."

"And then we'll all lose to the Borg."

"Maybe."

I crossed my arms. "Alright. Say I did decide to follow this path. What would I do next?"

"First, you must use the opportunity you've been given. _Voyager_ is under repair. It will be weeks before it's ready for her next mission. So use the downtime to learn as much as you can about the orbs."

"I'm afraid we have limited information on Bajoran religious history in our database."

"There's another way. Before she was murdered, Jadzia was the one I turned to when I needed answers about the orbs or any other ancient Bajoran artifacts. You've been avoiding a letter from Ezri Dax. Read it. Contact her and ask for information."

I frowned. "Why can't you just tell me whatever it is you want me to know?"

Sisko grinned. "You'd like it to be that easy, wouldn't you?"

And then, as suddenly as it began, the experience was over, leaving me on my knees before a glowing blue orb in Tuvok's silent quarters.

Sensing my return to reality, Tuvok asked, "What did the Prophet show you?"

I shifted into a more comfortable sitting position but kept my eyes on the orb. "A path," I said. "And I think I'm going to take it."


	19. New Year's Day

**New Year's Day**

 _Source Episode: VOY 7x12 Lineage_

 _CW: Description of, and discussion about, sexual abuse in a dating relationship. Edited for language and explicit discussions of sexual encounters._

* * *

After the orb experience with Captain Sisko, I did exactly what he told me to do—I responded to Ezri Dax's letter, asking for information on the orbs and other related religious artifacts.

While I waited for Dax's response, I devoured everything available in _Voyager's_ database. Sisko gave no indication of what, specifically, I should be looking for, so I read it all. I even went so far as to ask Iliana, Celes, Gerron, and Tabor for anything they might know that the database didn't cover.

Nothing stood out.

Thankfully, Chakotay offered to help me organize and study the information gathered—and to keep me sane through my research. He seemed to enjoy the work more than I did. It was nice having a second set of eyes, especially through longer stints when my own eyes grew so weary they seemed to go cross.

Meanwhile, repairs chugged along. Word spread among our allies of _Equinox's_ disappearance at the blue nebula battle, and everyone kept a sharp eye out for our companion ship. For the moment, she seemed to be keeping a low profile.

As for the crew, life aboard _Voyager_ carried on.

Schmullis removed more than half of Lyndsay's implants, and she looked almost like her old self again—though she changed her hair to auburn rather than her natural brown. Annika moved back into her old quarters and resumed her relationship with Megan. First, Third, and Fourth moved to Korok's ship, while Mezoti and Second—who opted to reclaim his birth name Icheb—took bunk assignments on _Voyager_. Ensign Grigori Levin and Crewman Antoine Toussaint adopted the baby I'd rescued and named him Asher. It meant, " _happy_."

Like the name Harry and I had given our daughter in Alixia's visions.

Within a week of escaping the blue nebula, one baby was born and another pregnancy was announced among the lower decks. Asher would have at least a couple of friends to grow up with, and they'd have big-sister Naomi Wildman to watch over them all.

Captain Janeway's worry back at the beginning of our journey was coming to fruition. _Voyager_ was becoming a generational ship—not just a Starfleet/Maquis experiment for the sake of survival, but a village. Soon we would need to devote time and space and thought to all the things growing families would need.

" _What kind of life would we be giving them aboard a starship traveling through unknown and hostile parts of space_?" she'd asked.

Now that we were in a dangerous war with the Borg, I couldn't help but think she'd been more right than I gave her credit for.

* * *

It had been two months since B'Elanna came to me asking for counseling. I'd never mentioned it since then, and neither had she, though I'd hoped she talked to someone about whatever she was struggling with.

Then she found me in the mess hall during lunch and asked if we could talk later.

Harry was on beta shift that night, so the meeting was easy to arrange. It was probably why she'd chosen that day to ask.

When she sat down in a chair across from my couch, she squirmed and fidgeted with her hands as if she wasn't even comfortable in her own skin. "I tried those self-help things you gave me."

"Did they help?"

"A little. I'm still doing them, I just…" She drew in a sharp breath and met my eyes. "I need to talk some things out with a real person... a friend."

I gave a slight smile. "I'm listening."

It was a few seconds before she spoke again. "In the last data stream from Starfleet, I got a letter from the Klingon Defense Force." A sheen of tears wet her eyes, but none welled up or fell. "Apparently my mom died four months ago in a Klingon attack on the Dominion."

" _Qapla'_ ," I murmured.

" _Qapla'_ ," she muttered in reply.

"I'm so sorry, B'Elanna."

"Me, too. The last time I saw her was when I left Qo'nos for Earth to attend the academy. We got into this huge argument and I stormed out of the house. You know what the last thing I said to her was?"

I shook my head.

"I told her I was leaving because I hated Qo'nos, and I hated being Klingon, and I didn't want to be like her. I told her that I wasn't coming back... and I never did."

"I can imagine that might make you feel guilty."

She looked down at her hands, folded loosely in her lap. "Yeah, it does. But the thing is, it wasn't actually about being Klingon. It was about my dad, stuff he said and did, stuff I said and did, and—" She sighed. "It fucked me up."

"What do you mean?"

"So you know Max and I dated at the academy, right?"

That was a strange jump in subjects, but I nodded and let her speak.

"The first time we met, I didn't think he'd even noticed me. At least, not any more than the way everyone always noticed me." She gestured to the ridges on her forehead. "But then he came over and talked to me. Bought me drinks. He listened to my stories, asked good questions, and looked at me like I was the most important person in the room. A Terran! And a cute one at that. He never once stared at my ridges. He always looked me in the eyes. He made me forget about what I was for a little while."

"He saw you as a person rather than a species."

"Exactly. He even offered to walk me back to my dorm. He asked if my roommate was there, and I said no. She wasn't around much. We didn't exactly get along. So he asked if he could come in. I told him I didn't want to rush into anything, but he said he just wanted to have some coffee and keep talking because he liked me so much, so I let him in." She bit her lip, looking hesitant to continue.

"Did he respect the boundaries you set up?" I asked.

"Not... exactly. I mean, we did talk and drink coffee. After that, he helped me clean up, put the cups in the recycler, and then... he kissed me. Honestly, it was something I'd wanted him to do all night, so I kissed him back. And, well, things got kinda heated. One thing led to another, and we..."

"Had sex?"

"Yeah."

A sick feeling curled in my stomach the way it did when my intuition was trying to tell me something was wrong. "Was it consensual?"

B'Elanna frowned. "Well, yeah. It's not like he raped me or anything. I mean, okay, maybe I wasn't super into it, but he didn't do anything until I said yes."

"Why did you say yes if you weren't into it?"

"Honestly? To get him to shut the hell up. He was all, 'I need you,' and 'I just think you're so amazing.' Plus it felt kinda nice being wanted. So finally I was just like, whatever, and I let him."

I frowned. "So he pressured you to have sex with him when you weren't ready?"

B'Elanna looked down at her hands. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But he was young. That's what guys that age do. He's not a bad person."

My blood boiled.

Tom had been right about Burke, and I'd brushed it off as simple jealousy. Burke was a charming predator—charming enough to convince B'Elanna he was a good person despite manipulating her into bed against her wishes. Would she even hear me if I told her what he did was wrong?

Taking a deep breath, I pressed onward. "What happened after you and Max had sex?"

"I couldn't sleep that night. Couldn't eat the next day. Couldn't even stand the smell of coffee. I'd be walking to class, see someone who looked like him, and put my head down so he wouldn't see me. Or I'd smell someone with the same cologne and suddenly be on edge. I even yelled at someone for blowing coffee steam in my face."

It sounded like she'd been traumatized.

"That's not what a person is supposed to feel like after having sex with someone," I said.

"Probably not. Except when I was with him, it wasn't like that. When I was with him, I felt wanted. And it felt good. Most nights, he'd follow me back to my place or take me to his, expecting sex no matter how I felt, but I'd let him have it anyway because I liked how much he wanted me. And sometimes I'd get off, which was nice."

"So what happened?"

"I started having panic attacks. Not because of him, but for no reason at all. I guess the stress of classes and asshole professors and stuff was getting to me. It was all just too much. So I quit. Dropped out.

"Max showed up while I was packing and we just started yelling at each other. He wanted me to stay, said I was wimping out and needed to get over myself. And he was right, but I told him to fuck off and left anyway. I never saw him again until the day we found _Equinox_ in that nebula."

He told her she was wimping out and needed to get over herself. He'd actually said that. And all these years later, she still believed he was right.

I ran a hand over my face. "Have you been involved with him since then?"

"No. He's tried to put on the moves once or twice, but I told him no and that's the end of it. But he's been so nice about everything. I tried to apologize for the way I left things, and he wouldn't even hear it."

"He hasn't tried pressuring you into sex again?"

She groaned. "You keep focusing on that, but I told you he's a good person. Guys do stupid, selfish shit to get laid when they're young. It's just what they do. But he's not like that anymore, okay?"

No. It absolutely was not okay—not then and not ever. I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she understood that, but something told me it would end the conversation right there if I did.

I cleared my throat and selected the only response in my head that wouldn't shut her down on the spot—the theme my counselor's mind wanted to focus on. "You said you liked being with him because he made you feel wanted."

"Well, yeah. Everyone wants that."

"Yes, but that's not the only reason to be in a relationship."

"No, but it's a pretty important one. Shouldn't the person I'm with want me more than anything else?"

"Was Max what _you_ wanted the most during your time at the academy?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and frowned. "No, he wasn't."

If that was what she'd expected from Tom, then no wonder she'd left him after what happened between him and me. I bit my tongue to keep from bringing it up, but I didn't know what else to say.

For a long moment, the silence stretched on as B'Elanna seemed to process through something in her mind.

Finally she shook her head and focused her gaze on me. "That's not the point. The point is Max made me feel good, and I abandoned him when things got too hard. And it's the same thing with Tom. As soon as the relationship got complicated, I ran. Because I can't commit. Because of what happened with me and my dad."

"What happened with you and your dad?"

B'Elanna's eyes filled with tears. "We were inseparable. He spoiled me and I worshipped him. But the older I got, we just grew apart. He ended up organising this camping trip with my cousins. I guess he just wanted to, I don't know, make things better again."

"What happened?"

"One of my cousins put worms in my food, and when I got upset he said something about how that's what Klingons were supposed to eat. I got mad and went off on my own. When I came back, my dad said I overreacted, that it was just what kids did and I was too sensitive. After they sent us all to bed, I overheard dad talking to Uncle Carl. He said..." Her voice trailed off, silence lingering in its wake.

"What did he say?"

"He said mom and I were too much, that he couldn't handle living with two Klingons. So I got it in my head that I should just leave. I tried to run away after Uncle Carl went to bed. It was so stupid. I mean, where was I going to go? But dad caught me. When he tried to stop me, I told him what I heard, and you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said I shouldn't have been listening to a private conversation. As if talking shit about mom and me two meters away from my goddamn tent is private! So I threw it right back at him. He shouldn't have said those things. Then he said I was twisting his words. It made me so angry."

"You had a right to be angry. What he said was hurtful, and he wasn't willing to own up to his mistake."

B'Elanna shook her head. "It's not what he said, though. It's what I said." She sobbed, her whole body shaking with the force of her agony. "I said, 'If you can't stand living with us, then why don't you just leave?' And that's exactly what he did twelve days later. And he never came back."

All the air seemed to leave the room at once. Was this the burden she'd been carrying around all these years—the reason why she seemed almost afraid of identifying with anything Klingon? Because her father had expected B'Elanna and her mother to conform to his Terran standards, and abandoned them when they didn't?

She blamed herself for everything, but the truth was he hadn't deserved her.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hug her, but she'd never been one for hugs. The most physical affection she'd ever shown or accepted from me was a brief hand squeeze, and even those were rare.

"It's not your fault," I said.

"Of course it's my fault! I could have worked harder, been a better daughter, but I pushed him away instead."

"B'Elanna, what happened was between your parents. It was _not_ because of you."

"He left because I told him to! I did. Not mom. Not anyone else. I said it, and he did. And now I'm just like him. Any time things get too hard, I leave. I left Max, the academy, my mom, Tom… everyone. And then I wonder why nobody wants me."

"That's not true."

"How can you say that! It's so obvious. This is why I asked for help. I have to fix this—fix me. I don't want to be like my father, but I don't know what else to do."

Fuck it.

Sliding from my seat, I perched on the coffee table in front of B'Elanna and grabbed her hands. "Listen to me. _You are not your father._ You're not. You left the academy because it wasn't the right fit for you. You left Max because you needed to take care of yourself. You left Qo'nos because it wasn't where you needed to be. None of those things are abandonment. You wanna know what I see in you?"

"What?"

"You haven't abandoned your post once. Not on _Valjean_ and not here on _Voyager_. We've been through hell, but you always put one hundred and ten percent into what you do. More than that, you've done a lot to integrate our old crew into _Voyager's._ And you always defended them when any of the more uppity fleeters tried to push them around.

"The past few months, you stayed my friend even though you had every right to never want to talk to me again. And you refused to let our group dissolve over what happened between me and Tom. _You_ did that in a situation that would make most people want to give up."

She pulled a hand away to wipe her tears.

"That doesn't sound like someone who runs away when things get hard. It sounds like someone who isn't afraid to fight for what they need and for the people they love, even when it hurts."

"You think so?" she whispered.

I smiled. "I _know_ so."

* * *

On New Year's Eve, standard time, a number of the crew gathered in and around the mess hall for Neelix's new year party. Most of the mess hall's tables had been moved out, and the ones left behind were spread out around the edges of the room. The doors on both sides of the hall were left open, and tables full of food lined the corridors where many of the crew stood in clumps to talk.

In the center of the mess hall was a synthetic wood floor for dancing. Musicians set up their chairs and stands in front of the massive viewport on the hall's aft side, giving them a lovely backdrop of shining diamond stars. Harry sat among them warming up with his clarinet. He'd jumped at the chance to play with other like-minded musicians, and even shared a couple of his original compositions for the ensemble to perform at the party.

The grin on his face as he chatted with the rest of the ensemble was brighter, by far, than the stars sparkling behind him.

As the band played and the night wore on, I stood off to the side watching more than actually socializing. It was life-giving to see the crew mix and mingle, lovers and families and friends moreso than comrades.

When the ensemble got to an upbeat swing song, Lyndsay dragged Celes onto the dance floor. Celes's face went pink with embarrassment, but she laughed and gradually loosened up as Lyndsay guided her through the steps, Bajoran engagement bracelets gleaming in the overhead lights.

Near the bar that wrapped around Neelix's galley, Annika and Megan bowed their heads together so they could converse despite the loud music. I could only imagine what they were talking about. Musical genres? Dancing styles? Neelix's near-fatal homemade liquor? How much they hated parties? Whatever it was seemed to be very interesting.

And then there was Tom and B'Elanna.

For a while, they stood with me—watching everyone else, sniping playfully at each other. Flirting. Eventually, the subject got around to dancing. Challenges were made, fighting-words exchanged, and soon enough they were dragging each other to the dance floor.

About time.

Zero-hour came and went with kisses and hugs and cheers. In ones and twos and threes the crew filtered off to their beds while a few of us stayed behind to help clean up. When the food was recycled and the tables put back in their places, B'Elanna caught Tom's hand and tugged him out the door.

I smiled to myself.

It was very early in the morning when Harry and I returned to our quarters. "Happy new year, _ja'lat_ ," he murmured, dragging me close and kissing me deeply.

I couldn't have replied if I'd wanted to.

So I slid his shirt from his shoulders and laid my hand against his thudding heart, determined to show him just how much I loved him, too. Because I'd wasted so much time taking him for granted and longing for the wrong thing. What if one or both of us died in the war and this was the last new year we had left?

Maybe Alixia's visions had been a call to war, but perhaps they had also been a wake-up call to all of our weary souls. Maybe the Emissary had manipulated us, even condemned us to a life and death far away from home.

But perhaps he had also saved us all.


	20. What Power Has the Dal'Rok

**What Power Has the Dal'Rok**

* * *

When I woke the next morning, Harry was still sleeping. It was surprising—usually he was the early riser out of the two of us. But we were both off-duty for the day, and we'd had a late night.

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him—lying on his side, face relaxed, hair a mess, bare chest swelling and deflating with each breath. I wanted to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and trace the contours of his face.

No. He needed to sleep.

Slipping out of bed, I tip-toed to our desk and grabbed the PADD I'd been studying ever since the last time Chakotay and I sat down to work on our pet research project. With the device in hand I hurried back to bed, wanting to get warm under the blankets again. Propping myself against the headboard, I began to read.

Ten minutes later, Harry stirred and curled a hand around my thigh.

"Hey," I said, covering his hand with mine.

"What are you reading?" he asked groggily.

"A Bajoran parable."

He dragged himself into a sitting position and ordered the lights on at thirty percent. The room filled with a dim glow. "I thought you and the commander already went through all of that."

"We did. But until I hear back from Ezri, this is all I've got to work with."

He rested his chin on my shoulder. "What's it about?"

"War and love."

"Why am I not surprised?"

I chuckled. "It _is_ a common topic in Bajoran literature, isn't it?"

He nodded at the PADD. "So what does it mean?"

"It could mean lots of different things depending on how you interpret it."

"How do _you_ interpret it?"

I hummed, tracing the edges of the PADD with my finger. "I think the basic message is that unity and love are the best weapons for defeating an enemy. But there's also an element of identity to it. Like… there's a time and place for both love and war, and sometimes they do overlap, but there's also a choice that has to be made to favor one over the other in life. Which one do you carry in your _pagh_? What drives you? The option you choose defines who you are."

"And I'm guessing this parable argues for love."

I nodded and placed the device on my bedside table. "Actually, it makes me think of a story Marnah used to tell me about a village called Sidu. Every year, a monster called the _Dal'Rok_ awakens in the sky to destroy the village, and only the people's commitment to unity can drive the monster away. I've tried looking for that story, but it's not in our database."

"Could either of them have something to do with whatever Sisko has you looking for?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Maybe. The two stories aren't much alike except that they both argue for unity. But Sidu and the _Dal'Rok_ … it's just sticking with me for some reason."

He kissed my cheek. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." Pushing my hair out of the way, he trailed his lips along my shoulder. "You can study later. Today is just for us."

I tilted my head to the side and he moved to the pulse point in my neck. A sigh escaped my lips when he sucked my skin between his teeth.

"You're affectionate this morning," I said.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all."

His hand skimmed over my body. "We have a whole day to ourselves."

"What should we do with it?" I asked, leaning into his touch.

"I say we spend it right here."

I giggled. "The whole day in bed?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay," I whispered, capturing his mouth with mine.

With _Voyager_ docked and undergoing repairs, there was little chance of interruption. For once, nothing mattered beyond the bulkheads of our quarters. So we let our world narrow to just him and me, lazily making love with no concern for anything.

"I love you," I said when we were done. At some point, we'd ended up laying upside-down on the bed, feet pointed towards the headboard.

"I love you, too," he said, kissing me deeply before rolling onto his back.

I curled against his side, resting my head on his flushed chest as he wrapped his arms around me. For a long while, we simply laid there and said nothing.

My mind wandered back to past times—to the first time we confessed our love for one another and how we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves for months afterward. More than anything in the universe, I'd wanted to be as close as physically possible to him at all times.

How many off-days had we spent locked in his quarters or mine only to be teased by Tom and B'Elanna when we finally emerged? Worse yet, how many times had we barely managed to report for duty on time because a few kisses led to morning sex?

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked.

I smiled. "The days when we used to do this every chance we got."

"You mean have sex?"

"No." I laughed. "Well actually, yes. I mean stay up late making love, then wake up in the morning and do it again."

"Yeah, life out here isn't very conducive to passion or impulsiveness, is it?"

More like, life on _Voyager_ aged relationships much more rapidly than life elsewhere—and it weighed on them much more heavily. But I only hummed in reply.

"You know, I haven't thought about those early days in a while." He squeezed me a bit tighter. "I don't think we ever got much of a chance to just be in love together without one thing or another happening around us, stressing us out."

"No," I murmured. "We didn't."

There was so much neither one of us was saying—that it was a wonder we'd managed to stay together despite everything, that I'd put so much scar tissue in his heart ever since he first opened it to me, that he'd been the immovable rock to which I could always anchor myself no matter what.

And what had I been for him?

 _Trouble_ , a dark voice in my mind said, but I pushed it away. There was another answer—a reason why he fell in love with me that was enough to make him weather every storm.

"When..." The rest of my question was still fuzzy. I'd meant to ask something else.

 _What made you love me?_

But that would only get me answers he'd told me before. I was brave. Smart. Caring. Dedicated. A fighter. These were things I already knew he admired—qualities I still struggled to accept as part of me. They were too abstract, and right now I needed something I could hold onto.

"When what?" Harry asked.

Then it came to me. "When did you know you loved me?"

He was silent for a moment. "The night you jumped me, a couple weeks after we left Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay on that planet."

I pulled away, gaping at him in shock. " _That's_ when you realized you loved me?"

"Well," he said, twisting a wayward lock of my hair around his finger. "It was right after that. In sickbay, when Dr. Schmullis suggested I leave so he could discuss medical stuff with you, you grabbed my hand and asked me to stay. You looked like you were about to fall apart right there, and I remember thinking, 'This isn't enough. Holding her hand isn't enough. I have to take away this pain somehow.' And I realized that if I had the ability to draw it all into myself, I'd do it every day for the rest of my life just so you could be happy again."

Tears pricked at my eyes. "Really?"

"Of course," he said, cupping my cheek. "I still would."

I smiled.

Devotion. He recognized love when it presented as devotion, and that was the night he realized he was devoted to me.

Had I ever done anything to show devotion to him?

"Looking back, though," he continued, "I think I fell in love with you long before that."

The admission took me by surprise. I hadn't expected there to be more to his answer. "You did?"

"When you came to my quarters after the bridge officer's test. I thought I'd never be able to make that decision in real life, but you saw my vulnerability and accepted it. More than that, you showed me how it could also be a strength, and I trusted your faith in me." He traced my shoulder with his fingertips. "After that, I was sunk. Not that I realized it at the time."

Faith. It wasn't quite devotion, but it was a start.

"So you loved me before you even asked me out?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I did."

I snorted and shook my head.

He frowned. "What?"

"I just... I feel kind of bad now."

"Why?"

I dragged my lip between my teeth. "Because it took me so much longer than you."

"Just because you didn't realize it doesn't mean it wasn't there."

Captain Janeway's words from years ago echoed in my head. _"_ I recognized the look in your eyes," she'd said of my reaction to Harry's death in the divergence field. _"_ You love him."

And even before that, the first time Tom confronted me about my feelings for Harry. _"_ I've never seen anyone throw you off your game like he does. It makes me wonder... if you're actually falling in love with this one."

Was Harry right? Had love snuck up on me without my notice yet again?

"Maybe," I said.

In Bajoran, there were several different concepts related to love. Sexual love, romantic love, family love, community love, patriotic love, spiritual love. All of them involved some kind of connection to, or affection for, someone or something outside of self, but they were distinct.

The concept of being _in love_ was Terran.

I'd heard there were Earth dialects that, like Bajoran, had different terms for different kinds of love, but Federation Standard only had the one word… _love_. Being _in love_ referred to a strong romantic love—something more than the smaller feelings of a crush—but the way it was phrased implied it was a yes or no situation. You were either in love or you weren't. It was also something you _fell_ into involuntarily, unexpectedly, but no one could quantify when it had happened to you.

You just knew.

"When did you know?" Harry asked.

Returning to my memories of our early relationship, I considered how my feelings for him had developed. "Well I know that I first realized I was in love with you at Land's End. Or, rather, fake Land's End on the holodeck."

His eyebrows jumped. "The same night you told me you loved me?"

Heat filled my cheeks. "It's ridiculous, I know. I debated it for a long time because I didn't trust myself. But when you stopped yourself short of saying you loved me, it felt like the most right thing in the universe. That's when I knew."

"And you just blurted it out right then."

"Yeah, I did."

He chuckled and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I have to say, I'm a little surprised."

"Why?"

"You're just so insightful with other people, and you're usually more insightful with yourself. But this one thing..." He studied my face. "Your own feelings of love confuse you so much."

I scoffed. "I'm still not sure I understand it."

Tugging me down, Harry shifted onto his side and wrapped me in a tight embrace. "No one does. That's why we have each other."

* * *

Data transmission from Starfleet Communications, sent by relay from Deep Space Five, stardate 52993.6  
Received by USS _Bonchune_ , stardate 53001.8  
Received by USS _Voyager_ , stardate 53010.0

From: Lt. j.g. Ezri Dax, Deep Space Nine  
To: Lt. Cmdr. Eelo Talia, USS _Voyager_  
Stardate 52968.9

Talia,

Thanks for writing back. Honestly, I was a little nervous to write that letter. I know how much Jadzia valued your friendship and I didn't want to open up old wounds. Then again, I'm working on the station where she worked, which has definitely opened plenty of old wounds with her friends and comrades here. So I guess I'm just used to it now.

I'm rambling. Sorry. The point is, I hope we can be friends.

Since getting your letter, I tried to pull together as much of Jadzia's research as I could on the orbs and other artifacts. I found some other stuff in the station database, including logs Captain Sisko and others kept on their own encounters with orbs and orb fragments. Hopefully, this gives you the information you need to know.

As to the other question you asked, it's not a problem. You have every right to want information about how Jadzia died. Dukat was possessed by a _pah'wraith_. He transported into the temple, and Jadzia just happened to be there. It was a coincidence. The _pah'wraith_ used the orb to enter the wormhole and cut off any contact with the Prophets, but then Benjamin found a new orb and reopened the wormhole. I sent you those reports, too.

There's something else I have to tell you. Captain Sisko died. Well, he kinda died. His wife and son both said that Benjamin came to them in visions to tell them what happened. They said he went to the fire caves so he could stop Dukat from liberating the other _pah'wraith'i_ , and he's with the Prophets now.

It's strange. I got your letter about a week after that happened. Maybe it's just a coincidence, and maybe I'm just looking for any chance to make sense of what happened, but I have to ask. Why do you want to know about the orbs?

* * *

"It's happened," I said to Captain Janeway as I slapped Ezri's letter on her desk. "Our universe's version of Captain Sisko has joined the Prophets."

Janeway considered me for a moment before picking up the PADD and scrolling through its contents. "As a matter of fact, Commander, I was just about to inform you of that myself. He was listed on the latest casualty report as 'Missing In Action, presumed dead.'"

I slid into a seat across from her. "Well, he's not. He ascended."

Her eyes flicked up from the PADD. "Yes, of course _we_ know that, but Starfleet doesn't."

"Keep reading. He visited his family and told them the truth."

She returned her eyes to the document. "Well, I doubt Starfleet puts much faith in their claims. You know as well as I do how they feel about the metaphysical." Then she frowned. "Orb fragments?"

"I've never heard of such a thing, but I guess someone on their crew encountered one. I haven't looked into that yet."

Janeway hummed and continued scrolling. "What is a _pah'wraith_?"

"It's like an evil spirit. Bajoran scriptures claim they were Prophets who were cast out of the Celestial Temple for believing the universe should be forcefully subjected to their will."

"That sounds familiar."

"What do you mean?"

She glanced up from the PADD. "Forcefully subjecting the universe to their will," she said, echoing my own words back to me. "Sounds like the Borg."

"Ah." I huffed a laugh. "You know, I never thought about that before. Although I doubt the _pah'wraith'i_ had technology and assimilation in mind."

"Fair enough." She scrolled further until something made her eyebrows jump. "He found another orb?"

"That was a report I did actually skim over. The Vedeks call it the Orb of the Emissary. Evidently, it contained the Prophet who orchestrated Sisko's birth—which is strange, because the Prophets don't usually inhabit the orbs."

"No?"

"Orbs are just a means for the Prophets to communicate with corporeal life. But because that Prophet was in the orb, she wasn't affected by the _pah'wraith_ that closed off the temple and she was able to reopen it."

Janeway pursed her lips. "So the Prophets' desire to meddle in Federation affairs precedes Sisko's involvement with them."

I snorted. "Apparently so. But it makes me think... Riley didn't say anything about the Orb of Peace going dark, and Captain Sisko told me it wasn't affected by the _pah'wraith_. I think when Sisko left us on our way out of Borg space, he put himself—his _whole_ self—into that orb."

Janeway's head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she considered what I said. "Very interesting." She set the PADD down and laced her fingers. "Well, you'd better get started. You will not, however, answer Lieutenant Dax's questions about why you need this information."

Part of me had hoped for a reason to let Ezri in on the truth. I hated the thought of keeping information from her that might help ease the grief, but Janeway's caution was probably wise. "Aye, Captain."

"Bear in mind that once our mission to find _Equinox_ is underway, that will have to take precedence over this research. You and Chakotay will have to relegate this project to off-duty hours."

"I understand. What's the ETA on repairs?"

"B'Elanna and Harry have both confirmed we'll be ready to go within the week."

I nodded. "We'll make the most of the time we have, Captain."

"Very good, Commander. There's one more thing I think you'll want to be present for before you go." She stood and tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Lieutenant Kim."

"Kim here."

"Please report to my ready room."

"Aye, Captain."

Within seconds, he was stepping inside. He glanced at me then settled his gaze on Janeway, linking his hands behind his back when he stopped in front of her desk.

"Mister Kim," she said, "are you aware of how many members of this crew have passed the bridge officer training to obtain command qualifications in the past six months?"

It was a question better suited to Chakotay than Harry. Crew oversight was an XO's job, not an ops chief. Where was Janeway going with this?

Harry's brows twitched into a slight frown that he immediately schooled back into neutrality. "Three that I know of, Captain."

"It's four, actually," she corrected him. "I've just received approval from Starfleet Command to grant them promotions, which brings the total of command-qualified junior grade lieutenants on _Voyager_ to ten. Thus, at my own recommendation, Command has seen fit to approve a fifth promotion in the interests of keeping my senior officers, well, _senior_."

My mouth started to fall open, but I snapped it closed.

This time, Harry couldn't keep his emotions from showing, a dumbfounded look overtaking his face.

Taking out a small box, Janeway stepped around her desk and called us to attention. As one, Harry and I snapped into the correct posture.

She lifted the box's lid. "Lieutenant junior grade Harrison S. L. Kim, it is my privilege as ship's captain to promote you to the rank of full Lieutenant with all the privileges and responsibilities therein." She plucked the black pip from Harry's collar and affixed a solid brass one in its place. "Your service to this ship and your leadership within this crew have been exemplary. I expect more of the same moving forward."

"Aye, Captain," he said. "Thank you."

"At ease, Lieutenant." Janeway's face split with a warm, crooked smile that spoke of immense pride. "You've earned it."

* * *

Sitting in the mess hall that afternoon, I wrote out everything I could remember about the story of Sidu and the _Dal'Rok_. No new inspiration hit me, yet I turned it over and over in my mind. Why _this_ story? Why did it stand out so strongly?

Maybe something Ezri sent would help me figure things out.

As I set down the PADD to give my eyes a break, I noticed Iliana sitting across the room with First. Several of his implants were gone, making him look less Borg and more Cardassian. He was staring down at a large PADD as Iliana talked and gestured at the screen.

What would have become of him if not for Icheb's virus? He was part of Unimatrix Zero, too. Yet he'd been loyal to the collective. Would he have submitted himself for reassimilation after emerging from his maturation chamber? Would he have died fighting for the Borg as our enemy? Or would he have ultimately ended up right back in the place he was from, assimilating his own people when the Borg invaded the Alpha Quadrant?

"Coffee?" Neelix asked, startling me. My eyes snapped to his and he gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"It's fine." I shook my head. "No coffee, thanks."

He glanced over at Iliana and First. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time he's visited. I think she's teaching him about the Cardassian Union and its cultures."

I had to resist the urge to scoff, a comment about brainwashed soldiers pressing against my lips. It was an ironic thought considering that First had been Borg. Cardassians were still individuals, at least. Their words and actions had been carefully scrutinized by the state for centuries, but their thoughts were their own.

First said something that made Iliana smile, but it wasn't the sharp, dangerous smile I was used to seeing on her. It was warm. Proud.

"It must be nice," Neelix said as he watched, a melancholy undertone to his voice. "Having someone to share those things with after all this time. Someone to pass it along to." His gaze grew distant. Longing.

"Has she visited you?" I asked gently. "Alixia."

He turned a sad smile onto me and shook his head. "Oh no. No, I'm sure she has much more important things to do than to pester her old man."

Like plaguing me with visions and dreams of a future in which the Borg won.

"Speaking of children," he added, setting the coffee pot on the table. "Have you had a chance to visit Grischa and Tony and their little bundle of joy yet?"

"No, I haven't. How are they?"

"Very excited." He grinned. "Little Asher has settled in quite nicely. Barely ever fusses. They say you're welcome to stop by anytime."

"Yes, they've told me."

He sank into the seat across from me. "Why haven't you? You did save his life, after all."

Honestly, there was no good excuse. It was avoidance, plain and simple. The thought of interacting with any baby made bad emotions resurface, but finding Asher on that Borg sphere had triggered an actual flashback. Would the same thing happen if I saw him again?

"I'm just not ready," I said.

Neelix patted my hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word."

I smiled, his kindness chasing away the ghosts of memory creeping into my mind. "Thank you."

As he took up the coffee pot and turned to go, I rested my chin on one hand and stared at the stars beyond the viewport. Thoughts of Asher and Rojel danced with Sidu's _Dal'Rok_ in my mind, neither willing to let me focus on the other.

The war danced there, as well—a topic that seemed to be constantly in my thoughts. If it wasn't due to some meeting or new report, it was coming from patients in my office. The Borg had been a cause of anxiety for many of the crew even before we found the corpse on the Sakari homeworld, but fears spiked after the battle at the blue nebula. We'd survived due more to luck than our own abilities, and our best allies against the Borg had taken heavy casualties in the process of rescuing us. Winning the war had never seemed so impossible. Yet if we didn't follow Sisko's path, losing was inevitable.

It was a lot of pressure to live under.

"You know, you really shouldn't be spying on your own crew mates," Iliana said from behind me.

Once again, I jumped at having unexpected company. I cursed and shot back with, "You're one to talk."

That signature sharp smile cut across her face as she slid into the other seat, blocking my view. "Except that I'm much better at spying than you."

"Can't argue with that." I folded my hands on the table and took a deep breath. "Where's your new friend?"

"Went back to _Gik'tal_."

"Is that what Korok is calling his ship now?"

Iliana hummed. "Original, I know. Klingons never were known for their creativity."

I held up a finger. "Now that just isn't true. Have you ever listened to Klingon opera?"

She gave me a disgusted look. "No, I haven't, and I don't intend to. I'll stick with _kriyet_ music, thanks."

"Fair enough." It was strange chatting with Iliana as if we were friends, but I wanted to keep the ball rolling. "It's good to see First taking an interest in his culture."

She scoffed. "What's left of it."

I didn't need to ask what she meant. News of the war's end had spread quickly since the data stream came through, and reports of the post-war Cardassian Union were bleak. After a resistance movement had broken out on Cardassia Prime, the Dominion responded with brutal and deadly force. Hundreds of millions had been wiped out. Even more were displaced. Entire planets were starving.

"They'll rebuild," I said. "Just like Bajor has."

Until a Borg fleet arrived at the Union's doorstep and assimilated them all.

"Of course we'll rebuild," Iliana snapped. "We're Cardassian. Giving up isn't an option.

 _We_. As if she had every intention of going back and helping with the effort.

"And First?" I asked.

"He'll defend his people from the enemy to his last breath, just like any Cardassian would."

* * *

After dinner, Chakotay and I met in his office to start going through everything Ezri had sent. The task was daunting—there was so much data. Even with two of us spending most of our free time on the project, it would take months to comb through it all.

For a long time, we worked in relative silence. The first task was simply to skim and organize information based on our judgements of what might be the most important or useful. Only then would we start actually reading the reports, papers, and stories more carefully.

At least, that was the plan.

"Stop what you're doing and look at this," Chakotay said.

I spun my chair around to see the interface built into the wall behind his desk. "What?"

"I found a report on one of the orb fragments Lieutenant Dax mentioned in her letter. Apparently, two of Deep Space Nine's senior crew visited a village where a fragment was kept in a bracelet. For five days each year, the village leader uses it to create an energy storm the people believe is a spirit of some kind called a _Dal'Rok_."

Surprise shot through me. My eyes snapped to the screen. "Sidu?"

"That's the one. But look at this." He scrolled down to an image of the bracelet. It was a lovely piece—gold and heavily textured with a small green gem set in its center.

A gem that appeared to glow in a way no gemstone should.

" _Un'Bentel_ ," I cursed, reaching for my _tagh_. Retrieving the knife from its sheath, I held it up beside the image on the screen, one strange green gemstone next to another exactly like it.

"By the Prophets, indeed," Chakotay said, turning to me. "I guess Fayeni was right. Your _tagh_ is blessed."

"Not just blessed." I ran a thumb over the orb fragment I'd unknowingly carried for six years. "It's a conduit to the power of the Prophets."

"What kind of power?"

Chakotay's question took me back to another time.

"There is a reason why our foremothers called this weapon a _tagh_ ," Marnah had told me, pulling out her heirloom blade with its strange green gem. "If you wish to master it, you must pour your very _pagh_ into it."

"But I am!" I'd whined, though the pile of _tagh'i_ littering the deck around the target told a different story.

"You're not." Marnah sheathed her knife and grabbed my chin, forcing my whole attention onto her steely glare. "What power has the _Dal'Rok_ to shake a mountain?"

I groaned in classic pre-adolescent fashion.

Her grip tightened. "What power?"

If only Marnah could see me now.

Flipping the _tagh_ and catching the tip between my fingers, I visualized the succulent on the other side of Chakotay's office and the empty bulkhead just behind it. In one fluid motion, I twisted in the chair and threw the knife towards the plant—a nearly impossible shot to make even if I had been looking.

It stuck in the bulkhead, not piercing a single leaf.

I swiveled back to Chakotay and grinned. "Only that which I give to it."

His eyes flicked from the blade back to me, and he huffed a laugh. "Maybe we should find a safer place to experiment. I'd rather not risk my succulents—or my walls."

"Fine by me."

"Janeway to Chakotay," cut in the captain's voice over the comm.

Chakotay tapped his combadge. "Chakotay here."

"We've received a communication from Queen Nessav. A few hours ago, the Borg entered the Nekrit Expanse and attacked the colonies connected to the Unity One Cooperative." She paused. When she spoke again, her tone was grave. "There were no survivors."

I slumped back into my seat, all jocularity sucked out of the room.

"No... _survivors_?" Chakotay asked.

Another pause. "The allied forces are attempting to determine who is missing and who is dead. All we know for now is that the Borg left no one behind alive."

Riley. David. Orum. All of those people. The memory of their whole colony flashed through my mind, bustling with life despite the threat of death from other factions. They'd found unity since then—the Emissary himself had seen to that. But unity had not kept the monster away this time.

Now the Borg knew about the orb and that it was currently on _Voyager_. And they knew what it contained.

A shiver slid down my spine.

"Understood. Chakotay out." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Goddamnit."

"Loran," I muttered. "She's getting stronger by the minute."

"We really need to find _Equinox_."

At the mention of our missing comrades, another memory surfaced—my last conversation with Captain Ransom.

Ransom's grip on my wrist had been so tight. "You make sure… make sure my people get home."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I will, Captain."

"Rudy," he whispered hoarsely.

"We'll get your people home, Rudy," I'd said as I aimed my blade at his heart. "I promise."

But what good was getting _Equinox_ home if the Borg took that home away?

I stared at the image of the bracelet on Chakotay's screen, a symbolic mirror of my _tagh_. Bracelets were items of love and beauty, and this one literally channeled unity. Sisko said there was a path for me, and he'd led me to a weapon.

Given the choice, I'd rather have had the bracelet. I'd tried so hard to be that kind of person—the diplomat, the counselor, the loyal daughter and exemplary Starfleet officer. Someone who made the universe more compassionate and understanding. But despite Sisko's statement to the contrary, I didn't have a choice. I never had.

Maquis. Krenim. Borg. The truth always came for me no matter what I did. From the moment of my conception, I'd been destined to follow Marnah down this path—a path of war.

If this was what it took to save our galaxy from the Borg, then maybe it was time to embrace it.

"No," I finally told Chakotay, breaking the shocked silence that had stretched between us. Searching for _Equinox_ would cost too much time, and this wasn't their path. I hated the words even as they formed in my mouth, but there was no way around it. "We need to kill Loran before she comes for us."


	21. Atlas

**Atlas**

* * *

"Absolutely not." Captain Janeway shook her head as she set down the PADD I'd given her when I marched into her ready room armed with Chakotay's discovery and my logic. "We will not abandon our own people to go after someone we know almost nothing about."

My stomach tightened. It was a good thing I'd sat down when I came in, because I could already feel the fear and frustration rising. Eight thousand lives had been lost in the Unity One Cooperative, and I couldn't decide if I was at fault for them or not. If I didn't kill Loran, that number would only continue to rise.

" _They abandoned us_ ," I said, speaking of _Equinox_. "Besides, we've got half the quadrant on alert. We're already doing everything we can."

She folded her hands on the desk, maddeningly calm. "Not _everything_. I won't condemn Lieutenant Commander Burke for being scared, and I certainly won't punish his crew for following orders."

I leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of her desk. "This isn't about punishment. It's about survival. Loran knows about the orb. She's going to come for it. The best thing we could do for _Equinox_ is let them go. Wherever they are, it's safer than being with us right now."

"General Korok will be escorting us to ensure our safety, and we have been equipped with our own transwarp coil so that we are able to make a quick escape if necessary."

I scoffed. "You think that's going to stop her? You saw what happened at the blue nebula. Unimatrix Zero's ships can't self-regenerate like the Borg can. And Loran has the largest collective in the galaxy at her disposal."

"I've made up my mind, Commander."

"But I can kill her!" My voice was rising, volume surpassing a respectful decibel because everything in me was absolutely sure of what had to be done.

The glare Janeway gave me could have put a hole in the bulkhead.

I took a breath and dialed my emotions back down. "Captain, this is the path Sisko wants me to follow. Now that I know what my _tagh_ is capable of, all I need is to get Loran within eyesight. Without their queen, her collective will fall into chaos. This could be the difference between winning and losing the war."

She folded her arms. "Believe it or not, there are millions of capable people involved in this war effort, many of whom are far more qualified than you and me. They're relying on us to follow orders, and our orders are to find _Equinox_ before the Borg do."

"If you told our allies what we have, they might—"

"What we have are relics and guesswork. That's not good enough."

"' _Relics and guesswork_?'" My face burned, but I forced myself to take another breath. "At least let me show you—"

"This is not up for debate," she snapped. "We're going after _Equinox_ because we're Starfleet officers and we will not leave our own behind. End of discussion. Is that understood, Commander?"

I ground my teeth, biting back further argument that would only get me into trouble. "Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Less than a half-hour later, Harry's bridge watch shift ended. I was still pacing when he walked into our quarters.

"Hey, hey…" He stepped in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. "What happened? What's going on?"

"She won't listen!" I nearly yelled.

"Who?"

"Captain Janeway! I told her what we need to do and she won't listen." I spread my arms wide. "How the fuck am I supposed to follow the path if she won't listen?"

Harry frowned. "Okay, you're gonna have to back up a little and fill me in."

With a heavy sigh, I ran my hands over my face. "Remember what I told you about my orb experience with the Emissary?"

He released my shoulders. "You said he wanted you to learn about the orbs and find something, but he didn't tell you what."

"He also told me the Prophets laid out a path for me—that I have to choose whether or not to walk it, but that if I didn't we might lose to the Borg."

"No pressure."

My rage cracked a little. There was terror beneath it screaming that if I didn't kill Loran we'd all die.

But a quieter voice inside me asked, _What if that isn't true?_

"Okay, he didn't _exactly_ say that," I admitted. "I asked if that's what would happen, and he said, 'maybe.'"

Taking my hand, Harry led me to the couch and sat, tugging me down beside him. "So he didn't say what would happen either way."

I shook my head.

"Not very helpful."

It really wasn't, but I couldn't stand to do nothing while people were being killed or assimilated. "I need to do this, Harry. One thing he did make clear was that not taking the path could lead to death. That's how Jadzia died—Sisko strayed from his path."

"And you think he's trying to save you from a similar loss?"

"Given that the alternative is the entire Federation—the entire galaxy—being assimilated by the Borg, yes I think he's trying to prevent a loss. And I have the weapon to do it."

"What weapon?"

"Chakotay and I were looking through the files Ezri sent, and..." How was I going to explain this?

When I didn't say anything more for several seconds, Harry prodded. "What? What did you find?"

Getting to my feet, I went to the desk and pulled up an image of the bracelet from Sidu. As Harry followed me over, I unsheathed my knife and set it on the desk. Then I turned to him and crossed my arms.

Harry frowned at the screen, glancing from it to the _tagh_ and back again.

"It's an orb fragment," I said. "They both are. I have a piece of an orb in my family's _tagh_."

"So what does that mean? If whole orbs are essentially telepathic comm links to the Prophets, what can an orb fragment do?"

Taking the blade by the tip, I whipped it at the protruding bulkhead between one viewport and the next. The knife hit with a dull thud and stuck.

My eyes hadn't left Harry's.

Slowly, he turned his gaze, and I followed. My _tagh_ was exactly where I'd wanted it to go—halfway between the two viewports, sunk to the hilt.

"Measure it," I said.

Taking a tricorder from inside the desk, Harry scanned the distance between the knife and each viewport. He didn't have to tell me what his readings said. When he uttered a quiet, "Oh my God," I knew it was the same down to the nanometer.

Like the throw I'd made in Chakotay's office, it shouldn't have been possible. Yet there it was.

"Is this what Captain Sisko wanted you to find?" he asked, folding the tricorder shut.

"I guess so."

He stowed the device and turned to me. "So what won't Captain Janeway listen to?"

"We have to kill Loran." I met his gaze. " _I_ have to kill Loran."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? How'd you draw _that_ conclusion?"

"Sisko said—well, _implied_ —that if I took the path it could stop the Borg. He wanted me to contact Ezri and get information about the orbs, and she sent me this." I stepped closer. "Don't you see? This is why he brought us here. Everything has been leading to this. I have to use this _tagh_ to kill the queen."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "This is ridiculous."

"But it's the truth."

"Okay." He waved his hands in front of his face as if to keep me from adding more. "Say I accept your argument. The fate of the galaxy hinges on you killing Loran. First of all, we don't actually know what killing a primary admin drone will do to the collective. We can guess, but we don't know."

"I think it's a pretty safe bet that—"

"Second, there's the issue of getting you to her without being assimilated along the way."

"Actually, I—"

"Third—"

I sighed and crossed my arms. Evidently he was determined to say his piece, and it was pointless to try and stop him.

But instead of speaking, he grabbed my face and kissed me. When our lips parted, he rested his forehead against mine. "You don't get to do something like this on your own."

"Harry…" A big part of me wanted to keep arguing, but all I could do was make a quiet, half-hearted protest. "This is what I'm supposed to do."

"Do you know that for sure? Maybe you should talk to Captain Sisko before you go running off to fight a Borg queen on your own."

"To be fair, I wasn't planning on doing this alone. I tried to convince Captain Janeway to postpone our search for _Equinox_ , but she wouldn't listen."

"I thought you wanted to find them as badly as she did."

I pulled away and paced across the room, wrapping my arms around myself and staring out the viewport above my altar. Abandoning _Equinox_ felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

But it was the right thing to do.

"I _do_ want to find them," I said. "I promised Captain Ransom we'd get his people home, and I owe him that. But realistically, there's not much we can do that our allies aren't already doing. There's thousands of Zahl and Unimatrix Zero ships out there, but there's only one of us. And as much as I hate to say it, this is more important. Besides, after Loran's latest attack…"

Harry didn't reply. By the look on his face when I turned to him, he was as conflicted as I was. Not going after _Equinox_ was counter to everything we stood for, but losing the Unity One Cooperative made it hard to deny the urgency of our fight against Loran.

"I can't just sit around running pointless scans for a ship we'll never find," I said.

His lips curled in a half-smile. "I know. You've never been one to sit around in any situation, but maybe for now that's the smart move."

I frowned. "How?"

He advanced on me, pulling my hands from my waist and clutching them in his. "If this really is what needs to happen, then we'll have to prepare. Test what your _tagh_ can do. Make plans. _Talk to Sisko_. It's going to take time. By then, maybe we'll have found _Equinox._ "

"And if we don't find them?"

"Then we can take another stab at changing Captain Janeway's mind. Maybe we even bring it up to Commander Chakotay or Tuvok first, see what they have to say."

"What if she's still not convinced?"

Harry pressed his lips together, glanced at our joined hands, then looked back at me. "Then maybe we talk to Annika and try to feel out what Unimatrix Zero thinks."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Behind the backs of our superior officers? Our captain?"

He chuckled as if my reaction was funny. "You're going to do it anyway."

He was right. But I wasn't joking.

It was no small transgression, what he was suggesting. Worthy of a court martial, at least. I knew what it was like to live outside of Starfleet's good graces, and I wasn't afraid of the repercussions. Given my status as a genetically engineered person, my discharge was inevitable once we got back to Earth anyway. But Harry's dreams of being a captain, his work to get this far, his newest promotion… it would all be for nothing if he went against Janeway's orders or acted without her approval.

This wasn't the first time he'd offered to risk his position in Starfleet to accompany me in an off-the-books mission. He'd done it when we took _Equinox_ to join the rebellion against Annorax and rescue Chakotay and Iliana. But Janeway had approved that mission. Knowingly going against her wishes was something else entirely.

"Let _me_ do it," I begged, curling my fingers tightly around his. "You don't need to take the hit. You could be stripped of rank or even discharged for going along with this."

"My commission won't matter if we all end up assimilated or dead."

"Harry—"

"You're not going to change my mind." Releasing one of my hands, he cupped my cheek and stroked it with his thumb. "We're in this together."

The way he said it left no room for debate. He _would_ go with me. More than that, he'd come up with the rebellious idea himself. This wasn't just about love or loyalty to me. This was about belief in doing the right thing no matter the cost.

Belief that my proposal might actually be the right thing, even if our captain disagreed.

I pressed my palm to his chest, studying those deep, brown eyes. "I've been a bad influence on you."

He shook his head. "No. You've shown me things I never even thought of back in the academy. Before you, I lived by the book because I thought that was the only way to help anyone. But sometimes the rules don't leave room for nuance. If doing the right thing means losing my commission, then so be it."

"And you think this is the right thing?" I whispered. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I don't think you're crazy. What I _do_ think is we need to take some more time before we act on anything." His hand slipped down to my shoulder. "I also think if this really _is_ the right thing, the captain will come around."

I scoffed. "You didn't see her when I brought it up. She's determined to find _Equinox_ , and you know when she sets her mind to something, she's not going to stop until she gets it done."

"I could say the same for you."

"Damn right."

He snorted, and both hands moved to my shoulders. "Listen. Right now, she needs this. She needs to do her job, and as fleet captain, _Equinox_ is her responsibility. She takes that seriously, and I think it's hitting her hard that we had to leave them behind. But she knows the situation. She knows our allies are our best bet at finding them. When the time comes to do something bigger, she'll do what needs to be done."

"You really believe that?"

"Without a doubt."

I bit my lip. The part of me that demanded immediate and decisive action still clamored for attention, but I trusted Harry more than anyone else. He was right. This would be the smart choice... except for one thing.

"Loran knows about the orb," I murmured. "Sooner or later, she's going to come for it."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he lowered his head. Taking a deep breath, he looked up again and squeezed my shoulders. "Then maybe we should just let her come. You couldn't ask for a better opportunity to kill her than that."

* * *

Counselor's Log, stardate 53011.9

This morning, Captain Janeway announced to the senior staff that she's ordering all children, families, and expectant families to stay behind and help the war effort from the base here at Sinoso. This way if Loran does target _Voyager,_ they'll be relatively safe. The only exception is Mezoti, probably because she knows our stubborn secret-keeper will stay with Annika no matter what Janeway says.

My job now is to make myself available in any way I can to help support these families. _Voyager_ has been their home for five years, and the crew has been their village. It won't be easy to leave.

But at least the captain is taking my warning about Loran seriously.

* * *

Despite the Wildmans' living room being in a half-packed state, everything was either secured or beyond the reach of little hands. Naomi—now three and a half years old but developmentally on par with an eleven-year-old Terran—was sitting on the floor with Asher, the baby I'd discovered on the damaged Borg sphere.

The sight of the infant stopped me short, but I forced my feet forward anyway, allowing the door to close behind me.

He'd gotten so big in the past two months. Even outside of a maturation chamber, the nanoprobes in his bloodstream hyper stimulated his growth. He'd been premature when we rescued him, but now he was sitting up on his own.

Since permanent implants couldn't exactly grow with the body, there hadn't been much Borg technology to remove. His skin was a healthy tan instead of Borg-gray, and a thin layer of dark brown hair covered his head. Other than his facial ridge, he didn't look like the same baby.

The anxiety I'd felt over seeing him again loosened its grip. No flashbacks came. I could handle this. I _would_ handle it.

Naomi looked up and waved as I walked in. "Hi, Talia!"

Before I could respond, Sam stepped out of the master bedroom and smiled. "Hello, Commander. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to check on you," I said, glancing from Naomi to Sam and returning her smile. "See if there's anything I can do to help."

"That's very kind of you," Sam said. "Actually, I would like to have your input on something." She gestured to her room. "We can talk in here, if you don't mind."

"Mom," Naomi interjected, "can you watch Asher for a minute before you go? I need to use the head."

"Of course, honey." As Naomi left the room, Sam turned to me. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm alright, but thank you."

"Ah!" Asher stared at the door to the head, looking rather put out.

Sam chuckled. "He's a very big fan of Naomi."

Asher's head swiveled towards Sam. "Ah!"

"Don't worry, baby, she'll be back soon."

He glanced down at the colorful toy butterfly still clutched in his hand, then back up at Sam. Finally, he settled his gaze on me. The way he stared, one might have thought I'd sprouted an extra head.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped further into the room, knelt, and offered him my hand, palm facing up. "Hi, Asher," I said gently, giving him a warm smile. "I guess it's about time I met you, isn't it?"

For a moment, he just continued to stare at me. Then he looked to Sam, as if seeking her guidance.

"It's alright, Asher," she said, coming up beside me and stooping down. "We like Talia."

Asher's gaze returned to me. He flapped his arms, rattling the toy in his fist. Then he was reaching for me with both hands, babbling what was clearly a request to be held.

My heart pounded as the anxiety curled around me once again, but I didn't dare refuse. Obediently, I scooped him up and balanced him on my lap. "Hi, there. How are you, Asher?"

He babbled some more, rattling the butterfly next to my face before dropping it. Tiny hands found my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, his skin so soft I could hardly believe it. The last baby I'd held was my nephew years ago, and I'd forgotten how it felt.

I never had the chance to hold my son.

The thought struck from nowhere and seemed to suck all the air out of the room. My eyes burned, tears threatening to make an appearance. I refused to let them—not when Asher was warming up to me so quickly, and certainly not in front of Sam. I had a job to do. So I did my best to hold back the emotions and force myself to breathe normally, focusing on the happy, lively baby in my arms.

I was safe. He was safe. The sphere and the gravity well were far, far behind us. I was here to support Sam and Naomi. I would _not_ make this about me.

When Naomi returned, Asher immediately reached for her. I passed him off gratefully.

"Lieutenant Commander Eelo and I are going to have a talk in my room for a few minutes," Sam told her. "I'm going to close the door, but if he gets out of hand, come get me."

Naomi smiled. "We'll be okay, mom. I can handle him."

Sam kissed Naomi's forehead beside her ridges. "I know you can, sweetheart. I just don't want you trying to handle too much on your own. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Ah-ba," Asher said, reaching for the toy he'd dropped.

Sam retrieved the butterfly and returned it to him. "Try to hold onto it this time, okay?"

He squealed and rattled it in reply.

Rising to her feet, Sam led me to her room and tapped the panel by the door to close us inside. "I'm sorry about the mess."

"Don't apologize," I said. "You're moving. It's messy business."

"Yes, it definitely is." She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm concerned about the way Naomi is reacting to this move."

I leaned against an adjacent wall. "How so?"

"When I broke the news to her, she asked a lot of questions. She's being very mature about it, but I know she's anxious about leaving _Voyager_ and the danger everyone is in because of the war. The truth is, I'm worried about the war, too, and I'm not going to lie to her about the situation. But I don't want to make her even more anxious than she already is. Do you have any suggestions for what I can do to help her?"

Did I?

Children were never my specialty. In grad school, I had focused on individual therapy with adults and diplomatic relations with unknown species. Because most deep space ships were designed for families, at least one of the other counselors selected for a mission would specialize in relationships and families. That way, we could balance each other out.

Here on _Voyager_ , I had to be everything to everyone.

When Sam announced she was pregnant, I'd brushed up on the basics I learned at the academy and read some of what I could find in the database, but I hadn't done as much as I wanted to. Ever since my reinstatement, I'd been regularly overbooking myself and juggling more roles than I should have.

Now that I was looking into Sam's expectant eyes, part of me regretted that I hadn't committed myself more to this particular need.

"Child psychology isn't my strong suit," I admitted, "so take this for what it's worth. Naomi isn't a typical kid. She doesn't really have peers, so the crew has to fill that role. Since one purpose peers can serve is to give us an idea of what level we should be functioning at, I wonder how it might be affecting Naomi to have the crew setting this example instead of other kids."

Sam nodded. "I think about that a lot. Naomi idolizes the same people she calls her friends because they're adults. She looks up to them, but she also wants to be like them right now. One of the things she asked when I told her about the move was if she could do anything to help fight the Borg."

"What did you tell her?"

"I suggested that she should start by focusing on the move and settling into our new place, and that we'd think about the rest later."

I smiled. "A very diplomatic answer."

"You have to be diplomatic with Naomi. She's not easily deterred."

"I imagine that quality can be as much a source of frustration as it is of pride."

The love on Sam's face spoke even louder than her words did. "Yes, it certainly is."

"What else about having the crew as peers has seemed to affect Naomi?"

"She tries to be perfect at everything, and she gets frustrated when she falls short. She takes her captain's assistant job very seriously, and she's already talking about taking virtual academy courses through the comm net." Sam glanced briefly at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "Sometimes I worry that she might be pushing herself too hard or trying to grow up too fast."

"It must be especially hard for you because, physically, she's growing up much faster than a Terran would."

"It is. I knew what I was getting into when I married Gres, but…" She sighed, fidgeting with her wedding ring. "Knowing something and seeing it are two different things."

"That's true."

"Should I be worried about her?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "To an extent, it's normal for children at Naomi's stage of development to want to impress people. Often, they want to be seen as competent at whatever tasks they do. It's a basic psychological need we all have, but it really shows in the school age years. So she's right on the mark there. And from what I've noticed, she's more than competent. She's a smart kid."

Sam smiled. "She is. She's so mature, too. At least, I think so. I never really interacted much with kids before I had her."

"Could that be part of your anxiety about how she's doing?" I asked. "Because you lack experience with other children?"

"Yes, I'm sure it is. But knowing that only makes me feel worse."

"Why is that?"

"It reminds me of how unprepared I was to have her. Gres was the one who was good with kids, not me. I never thought I'd have to do this alone."

"This is a lot to handle without a partner."

"It really is. But it does make me feel better knowing she's acting normally for her age. I'll be honest—I'm very nervous about what's going to happen as she gets closer to adolescence."

I snorted. "That can _definitely_ be a challenge… for parents and kids."

Sam chuckled. "I hated it. Suddenly, all my friends wanted to talk about their crushes and going on dates, but I just wanted to talk about science."

"Ah." I smirked. "You were one of _those_."

"Yes," she said, still laughing. "I was."

"Is there anything in particular that worries you about Naomi transitioning to adolescence?"

"Well, it used to be that I had no idea what to expect for how it might play out here on _Voyager_. Now that we're moving to Sinoso, she's going to meet a lot of other kids. I worry about how they might respond to her and how she'll respond to them."

"Tell me more about that," I said. "What do you think will impact how she interacts with other kids?"

Sam twisted the ring on her finger. "She'll be the only Ktarian on the entire planet, so she'll grow up faster than they will. And she was raised very differently. The only other person she's interacted with who was near her age was Anelina, and they didn't get along. She won't understand the politics that go on in cliques. They might take advantage of her naïveté, or else they'll frustrate her to the point where she won't want to have friends at all."

I nodded. "Those are all very valid concerns. A lot of parents worry about their kids starting adolescence, but I'm not sure most of them could even imagine this situation. You're facing a unique challenge."

"It certainly feels that way."

We both fell silent for a moment as I considered the situation.

"I'm wondering if it might be helpful for you to practice some calming techniques together," I suggested. "You know she's anxious, and she knows you're anxious. Some of your anxieties are different, but one very big one is the same."

Her expression became contemplative, but she nodded along.

"Now," I continued, "I'm not saying you should lay all of your anxieties on her, or push her to tell you all of hers. But that doesn't mean you can't support each other in this one worry you both share. It might actually bring you closer, and it'll give her a model for how to handle anxiety in a healthy way. As for you, it won't answer any of your questions, but it might help you cope with the feelings they bring up a bit better."

"I hadn't thought about that," she said, a look of understanding overtaking her face. "I'm willing to try. What are the techniques?"

"Why don't I take some time today to decide on a few easy ones we can all practice together. The three of us can meet tomorrow morning before you go, and we'll try them out to see what works. I'll also put together a few resources you can take with you to Sinoso. Will that work for you?"

"That would be great, Talia." She grinned. "Thank you."

"Of course," I said, smiling back. "I'm happy to help. And if there's anything else you think of between now and then, or even after you leave, just let me know. I'll do whatever I can."

"That's very kind of you."

Kindness was only part of the offer. This was also my job—something I'd been getting worse at doing as time ticked by. Five years ago, I wouldn't have waited until she was leaving to check in.

Since then, I'd become something else.

Maybe I could make up for it with small gestures like this—a few de-stressing exercises, some self-guided resources, and a promise to respond to any comms she sent in the future. Surely, there would be resources available to her on Sinoso, as well. I could put in a few calls and try to make some connections. See if Sinta had any ideas.

But it wouldn't be enough. None of that would matter if we didn't destroy our enemy. If I really wanted to make up for my mistakes, I had to ensure that Sam, Naomi, and everyone else would be safe. _That_ was my job now—to kill Loran so that no one would have to face a universe consumed, one world at a time, by the Borg.

And that was exactly what I intended to do.


	22. Monster

**Monster**

* * *

A day after moving _Voyager's_ families to Sinoso, Captain Janeway called me into her ready room. When I arrived, Tuvok was standing behind Janeway at her desk. Across from them sat Megan Delaney.

"Have a seat, Commander," Janeway said, gesturing to the empty chair beside Meg.

Something told me this wasn't about our search for _Equinox_ despite the fact that we were due to leave the next morning. I nodded and did as I was told.

Janeway leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk and folding her hands. "Now that everyone you've requested in present, Lieutenant, what is it you want to tell us?"

Meg crossed one knee over the other. "I work for Section 31."

It was such a blunt statement, yet the way Meg said it, she could have been delivering a sensor analysis report. She never had been one to waste time on words she didn't need to say, and it wasn't new information. Still, it was disorienting to hear.

"Before you act ignorant," she added, "I know you're all aware of Section 31, and that _you_ —" she gestured at Janeway and Tuvok— "have been looking for a way to take the agency down since before _Voyager_."

Neither Janeway's nor Tuvok's faces revealed any sort of reaction. I kept my own face neutral, as well.

"It's impossible, you know," Meg continued. "People have been trying to take Section 31 down for two hundred years. We're not going anywhere."

"Then why would you break cover?" Tuvok asked.

"Because the higher-ups have taken things too far, and someone needs to put them back on a leash."

I leaned closer. "The gravity well?"

"For starters."

Janeway's voice was icy. "What else have they ordered you and your sister to do?"

Slipping a PADD from her pocket, Meg set the device on the table and slid it towards Janeway. "Quite a lot. They started putting pressure on us as soon as they figured out a covert way to get messages through the comm net. The longer it's taken for us to deliver, the more pressure they've applied."

"What is it that they have been pressuring you to do, Lieutenant?" Tuvok asked.

"To get Talia assimilated by any means necessary."

"Because I was their weapon against the Borg," I said.

Meg nodded.

" _'Was_.'" Janeway straightened. "Until Annika put Lieutenant Commander Eelo's DNA inside the central plexus of a sphere and it split the collective into pieces."

Tuvok linked his hands behind his back. "Was Miss Hansen aware of Section 31 or of Miss Eelo's genetic enhancements prior to that mission?"

"I assume so," Meg said, "but she didn't hear about it from me. I've tried to ask her about it—carefully—but she won't say."

"Who altered the nanoprobes Dr. Schmullis was modifying for Talia's treatment?" Janeway asked.

Meg nodded at the PADD. "Jen did. Everything I could find is on there. Like I said, 31 was putting a lot of pressure on us. By that point, I'd already told Jen I was out." She glanced at me. "I stopped working on the mission when I found out you were pregnant. Jen was upset, but she said she wouldn't report me and that she'd finish it on her own. I tried to talk her out of it, but she said taking down the Borg was more important. I thought about warning you, but I wasn't entirely sure that I disagreed."

My hands twitched, wanting to touch my stomach, to wrap myself up in a tight embrace and find some sense of security. I wanted to scream at her, tell her how she couldn't possibly understand and she was wrong for keeping her mouth shut. Her silence had cost Rojel's life, and nearly cost my own.

But knowing what I did now, I couldn't completely disagree, either. Two lives were insignificant compared to the entire galaxy.

"Jen didn't tell me anything after that," Meg continued, turning back to Janeway. "I didn't know about her involvement in the gravity well until after it happened. I got suspicious, hacked her agency log, and that's when I found out what she'd done. By then, the nanoprobes had already been deployed."

"What was your sister's reasoning behind these plans?" Tuvok asked.

Meg shrugged. "She didn't say. Though she did note in her log that the gravity well wasn't what she'd hoped it would be. She might have sent Tom there to find out if it was a sign of recent transwarp activity. I know you've already discussed the issue with him, but now you have it on record. There are at least two admirals in Starfleet Command who will be very upset by what 31 has subjected him to."

What _Marnah_ subjected him to at their behest. Yes, Tom's father and mine would be furious.

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "How is it that you know what was discussed in a classified meeting?"

"Section 31 has eyes and ears everywhere, Captain. Nothing is classified from us."

A muscle in Janeway's jaw flinched, and I imagined she was feeling as sick as I was. Surely two agents didn't have time for listening to every meeting, eavesdropping on every conversation, and reading every log on _Voyager_ , but clearly they had more of a presence than we'd realized.

"As for the nanoprobes," Meg said, "triggering Commander Eelo's predisposition for psychosis wasn't strictly necessary. I think Jen was getting desperate."

"Why?"

"They threatened to eliminate us if we failed."

Again, the line was delivered with an astonishing lack of emotion. It was just a fact, nothing more. As if she wasn't discussing the end of her own life. As if that wasn't worth any kind of reaction.

Except she _was_ reacting. She'd refused to participate, and now she was breaking cover.

"This all happened months ago," I said. "Why blow the whistle today?"

"If the Borg can't be wiped out completely," Meg replied, "31 believes the next best option is to develop new technology that can counter and defeat the Borg. To do this, they need to be intimately acquainted with Borg tech. In their most recent transmission, they…" Her voice faltered, the cool demeanor finally showing a crack.

"Please continue, Lieutenant," Tuvok prodded.

Giving her head a slight shake, Meg cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "They want us to steal a transwarp coil and deliver Annika to them for experimentation and study. Whatever they have planned, it won't be voluntary, humane, or ethical. They'll tear her apart piece by piece to get what they want from her. When that's not enough, they'll want others to study."

"Lyndsay," I said. "Mezoti. Icheb. Unimatrix Zero."

Meg nodded. "They'll never stop."

Janeway scowled, nostrils flaring and skin flushing with rage. "Computer, where is Ensign Jennifer Delaney?"

"Ensign Delaney is in the astrometrics lab."

"Is anyone else in astrometrics at the moment?"

"Negative."

"Tuvok." Janeway swiveled her chair towards him. "Take a team to astrometrics. Place Ensign Jennifer Delaney under arrest and confine her to the brig under maximum security protocols. Use a site-to-site transport—I don't want to make a scene or give her an opportunity to escape."

"Aye, Captain." With a curt nod, he marched out of the room.

* * *

"Please," I begged Tuvok in his office after my shift. "I have to talk to her."

"To what end, Commander?" he asked.

Pressing my palms on his desk, I leaned in and locked my eyes on his. "She's the reason my son is dead. I deserve to know why."

For a moment, he said nothing. His mind reached through our bond, probing my own. I tried to slam it shut on him, but my emotions seeped through anyway.

Still, he pulled back. "Do not think that I am unaware of the shift in your personality over the past several months. The flame within your _pagh_ is becoming a wildfire. If you do not learn to control it, then it will consume you."

He had me there.

"Maybe you're right," I said, "but this will help."

A slight frown crossed his face. "How so?"

"It'll give me closure."

He pressed his lips together, looking unconvinced.

"Please," I whispered. "I need to understand why he's dead. All I have right now are questions, trauma, and grief. Having answers… it won't bring Rojel back, but maybe I'll be able to lay him to rest."

It was a long while before he responded. This time, I let our connection flow freely, funneling all of my pain and confusion towards his _katra_. He was a parent, too. He had to understand, at least to some extent.

Finally, he nodded.

* * *

When we stepped into the brig, Tuvok dismissed the on-duty guards to the hall. Phaser in hand, he placed himself far enough away to give me a sense of privacy but close enough to shoot Jen if necessary.

I didn't stop until I was an arm's length from the forcefield.

"Commander Eelo," Jen said, dark eyes flicking from me to Tuvok and back again. She sat in a casual position—back pressed against the bulkhead between her cell and the next, one leg stretched out along the bench and the other resting on the deck. "What brings you by?"

"I need answers."

"I thought you might." She waved a hand lazily in my direction. "Fire away."

My heart pounded, rage and pain coursing through me. I took a deep breath. "What were you hoping to accomplish by ordering Tom to find the gravity well?"

"The truth is I didn't know what the readings were. I hoped it'd be a transwarp conduit." She pursed her lips. "Clearly, I was wrong."

I allowed a long moment to pass, waiting for an apology. She offered none.

Not that it would be nearly enough even if she had.

Instead, she watched me silently, examining my face with a mix of arrogance and amusement. No doubt she knew exactly what I expected, and had no intention of giving it.

"Go on," I finally said. "Tell me what you did next."

The slightest of smiles formed at the corners of her mouth, then dropped away as quickly as it had come. "After you were rescued and Schmullis briefed us on the nanoprobe modifications, I altered as many nanoprobes as I could get my hands on."

"Why? If it wasn't necessary—"

"Because I was done fucking around. Every day I didn't finish the mission was a day the Borg could take the Federation. So I brought the weapon in you to the forefront, both to weaken you and to make the effects stronger, if I could. Then I was gonna wrap you up in a pretty bow and take you to the Borg myself."

"And get assimilated along with me?"

She sat up straighter, brown eyes hard and unwavering. "I will do _anything_ to keep the Federation secure." For a moment, she let that statement hang in the air. Then she leaned back, resuming her casual posture. "But of course everyone kept such a close watch on you after that, I couldn't get close.

"Then a damaged sphere showed up, and Janeway couldn't resist the opportunity to shave a few years off our trip." Jen smiled. "It was perfect. I tampered with the tricorders in sickbay and convinced sweet little Dr. Kes that you were fit for duty. Schmullis pitched a fit, but lucky for me Janeway wanted your expertise for the mission… just like I knew she would.

"I had everything rigged and ready to blow the mission and get you assimilated, but wouldn't you know it… my sister's girlfriend was already a step ahead, and her sympathies lie with the Borg. Not the collective, mind you, but the drones enslaved to it. She wants to free them, but she sacrificed everything for a goal that was doomed from the start."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We can't have it both ways, Eelo. The Borg _must_ be destroyed—ripped out root and stem. Otherwise they'll just keep coming back. It's a nice idea to give them a second chance at individuality, but not all of them will want it. And even those who do—they're still people. Selfish. Warmongering. With all that knowledge and technology at their fingertips…" She raised her eyebrows. "It doesn't take a genius to see how that'll turn out."

I opened my mouth to argue, but clamped it shut when nothing but a moral argument came to mind. Morals would mean nothing to a true believer in 31 like her, and I couldn't deny that she had a point.

"And now…" Jen lifted her arms in a shrug. "Now we have nothing. It's over. We're still fighting this war, but we've already lost."

"No we haven't."

She threw me a disbelieving look. "This alliance sure as hell won't stop them."

"Not alone."

She laughed. "What, you think more allies will help? That won't change anything. But keep telling yourself it will. It's probably better for yours and everyone else's psyche to feel like you're doing something useful, right?"

That wasn't what I'd meant. She was right that more allies wouldn't change the tide. We already had allies with capabilities far beyond what the entire Federation could offer, yet Alixia's visions showed even they wouldn't be enough. A whole galaxy wouldn't be enough. The truth was that the Borg were my responsibility and always had been. One way or another, I was going to see it through.

But I didn't want to speak that truth aloud in present company, so I kept my response vague. "Section 31 can't begin to guess at the cards in our hand."

"The Borg already have your DNA," she said. "No doubt they've adapted. _That_ was our ace in the hole. You're no good as a weapon now, and nothing you've got up your sleeve can match the Borg's power. This was my job." Her apathetic demeanor gave way to disappointment, head dropping back against the bulkhead with a thud. "And I blew it."

Guilt. She'd had the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, and she'd failed. Despite how much I wanted to hate her for what she'd done, I could empathize with that.

Now it was my turn to bear the burden.

"Don't worry about the Borg," I said curtly, stepping away from the cell. "They're not your problem anymore."

* * *

Riding the turbolift up to my quarters, I had a strong urge to go to the holodeck and practice with my _tagh_. Harry and the others would be expecting me at dinner in a couple of hours, and I was supposed to meet with Chakotay after that to work some more on our research.

Except there was no point to the research anymore. He'd found what Sisko wanted me to find. I knew what I was supposed to do.

The turbolift stopped and slid open, revealing Alixia in the corridor before me. She seemed to have aged despite her timelessness, as if she'd grown into herself. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in long, blonde curls, and her strong figure was draped in a flowing white dress.

I stepped cautiously towards her, glancing around for other crew. No one else was in sight.

"What's going on?" I asked, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Your work is complete," she said, golden eyes calm and calculating. "You have found Annika Hansen and the secret-keeper, and you stopped the one who wishes to do them harm. So long as you keep them and my mother secure, their knowledge and abilities will not be taken by the Borg."

I stepped closer. "What does Kes know?"

"It is not about what she knows, but rather what she is. The assimilation of the El-Aurian species advanced the collective by centuries and gave them a taste of what it is to be connected to space and time. They desire more. Ocampans, too, are intimately connected to the universe. They must not be assimilated."

"So that's it? That's what we were brought here to do?"

Her chin lifted. "You were brought to this quadrant to set up a chain of events that would lead to the defeat of the Borg. This alteration to the timeline has resulted in some unintended consequences, but the damage has been minimal. We are adapting, and we are confident that we will succeed."

I frowned. "Wait, you mean you don't already know what's going to happen?"

"We do not. Our abilities are more limited than you realize. We can see timelines that have already existed, but this timeline is new. It is still developing, and we can only see what is likely to occur in what you call the future."

I had to admit, that was a surprise.

"It is this future that brings me to you now," Alixia continued. "You must leave the war effort. Go into hiding until it is done. Secure Annika Hansen, my mother, and the secret-keeper. Do not give the Borg a chance to take them."

That was _not_ what Sisko wanted me to do. Or was it? Were he and Alixia working from different plans now? Had I misunderstood Sisko? Were they intentionally trying to confuse me?

Did I really care?

"If you knew Annika at all," I said, "you'd know it's impossible to keep her from doing what she wants to do. And even if it was, Captain Janeway will never go for it."

She pursed her lips, her expression turning to annoyance. "Yes, I have already spoken with Captain Janeway. It did not end well."

I snorted. "I'll bet not."

"She may still listen to you. You must convince her of this."

I shook my head. "That'll never happen. Besides, I have a plan."

"Your plan will fail."

"You just said you can't see this future. You don't know for sure that I'll fail."

"Eelo, you must listen—"

"No," I snapped, " _you_ listen. I'm sick of you ascended beings pushing me around like a piece on your cosmic chessboard. I've done everything you told me to do, but Loran is still winning. And now all of the sudden you don't want me playing your game? Fuck that. If you can't control the situation, then maybe it's time you let us make up our own goddamn minds for once. We aren't drones, and you're not our queen. We don't need your help anymore."

Alixia's face fell. She shook her head. "Then I cannot stop what is soon to come."

"Good!" I said. "Bring it on!"

But Sisko's words replayed in my head. "I thought I was doing the right thing, standing up for myself, doing my duty as a Starfleet captain instead of falling for the flowery, pretentious bullshit I kept getting from the Prophets."

"What happened?" I'd asked, the raw pain on his face draining my anger away.

"I lost one of my dearest friends," he'd said. "Jadzia Dax."

Suddenly, all I could think was that Alixia, like Sisko, might be trying to save me from a similar pain.

"Wait," I called after her as she glided away. "What do you mean by 'soon to come'? What's going to happen?"

No response. It was as if she hadn't even heard me. Instead, she disappeared around the corner.

"Wait! Alixia!" I bounded after her. "What are you—" But when I rounded the corner, no one was there.

Alixia was gone.


	23. Imperfection

**Imperfection**

* * *

Personal Log, Eelo Talia, Stardate 53274.4

As of this morning, it's been three months since we left Sinoso to search for _Equinox_. Still no sign of them or of any warp trails with a Federation signature. Clearly, Burke doesn't want to be found.

The Turei are pissed. They hail us every few days asking for updates, and we have nothing to give them. Captain Janeway offered to help them mine their underspace network with communication buoys like we did the first time we searched for _Equinox_ , but the minister she spoke with only said, "I'll pass it up the line," and cut the comm. We've been waiting for another hail, but nothing has come through yet.

I'm still not having any luck with this absurd search Sisko has me on. He won't confirm anything. He just asks what I've learned and what it means to me, then tells me to keep looking. When I press him about the orb fragment in my _tagh_ , he just says, "It's not time."

Meanwhile, people are dying or being assimilated.

Even Chakotay's getting frustrated with this. Last night, he suggested we might get our answers more quickly if we did a few vision quests. It was a joke, but I'm honestly tempted to try.

Whatever else Sisko wants me to find—if he actually does want me to find something—doesn't matter. When Loran comes, I know what I have to do. After three months of training on the holodeck, I feel more ready than ever for the fight to come. I'll save Bajor, Earth, and everyone else with or without Sisko's help.

I won't fail anyone again.

* * *

"You're wearing your earring," B'Elanna said as Tom, Harry, and I sat down with her for lunch the next day.

My fingers touched the stud, sliding over the gold square with B'hava'el cut into it. The thin chains connecting it to the cuff brushed my knuckles, and the charms dangling from it tinkled quietly against each other. I hadn't planned to put it on this morning, but when the metal caught my eye, it felt like my own small way of giving Sisko the finger.

Eelos didn't blindly accept anyone's words, no matter who the message was coming from. That had never been our way. We were the ones who challenged everyone—even the Prophets. If Sisko knew anything about me or my family, he had to understand that. Possibly, he was testing me on purpose to see if I really was my mother's daughter.

That wasn't something I could easily explain over a meal, though, so I simply said, "It felt right."

Harry pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I think it's lovely."

I smiled.

"So…" Harry leaned back in his seat, eyeing Tom and B'Elanna with his brows raised and a slight smirk on his face. "We missed you two at breakfast."

Tom and B'Elanna exchanged a knowing look.

"I told you they'd bring it up," Tom said.

"I still don't care," B'Elanna replied.

Tom's eyes slid to Harry, and he gave a sly smile. "We were a bit... preoccupied."

"We might be preoccupied around dinner, too," B'Elanna added.

Tom's brows rose. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

I nudged Harry's shoulder. "Remember how they used to give us so much shit for being on each other all the time?"

He nodded. "Oh, I remember."

I grinned. "We should start returning the favor."

He shot a teasing look the other couple, who were still making eyes at each other. "Seems fair to me."

"Go right ahead," Tom said, finally tearing his gaze from B'Elanna's. "You can work on your material over dinner while we're having sex on a Risan beach."

"Tom!" B'Elanna hissed, although she didn't actually look offended.

I snorted. "We'll make sure and come up with something good."

Tom scooped up a forkful of rice. "You do that."

After lunch, as we pushed our chairs away from the table, B'Elanna stopped me. "Talia, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, no problem." I squeezed Harry's elbow. "You two go ahead. I'll be up in a bit."

"Okay." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips and grabbed my tray. "See you soon."

"See you soon."

Once they were gone, B'Elanna glanced around the mess hall and leaned in. "I'm worried about Chakotay and the captain."

Frowning, I scooted my chair in and mimicked her posture. "How so?"

"This morning when I left Tom's quarters, I saw Chakotay walk out of an empty room a couple doors down. I think he slept there."

" _What_?" I hissed, the word coming out louder than I'd intended.

B'Elanna shot me a warning look and moved closer, keeping her voice low. "He's sleeping in different quarters."

Alixia's visions cut through my mind—the tension, the bitterness that still existed between him and Janeway years after their divorce. But Alixia never showed me when the scission happened or how the fractures had started to form.

"Maybe it's just a one-time thing," I ventured, matching her conspiratorial tone. "They had a fight and needed to be away from each other."

"No," B'Elanna said. "Something's been going on for a while now. Every time I see him, he's either grumpy or checked out. He barely talks—it's all 'do this' and one-word answers. I can't even remember the last time I saw him smile." Her eyes narrowed. "Haven't you been meeting with him about some research thing you're doing?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he's helping me study the orbs and Bajoran sacred texts."

She waited for me to say more, then lifted her hands. "And? Has he been like that with you?"

The truth was, I hadn't been paying attention. I was so single-mindedly focused on killing Loran that everything else seemed unimportant—even the well-being of one of my closest friends.

What a shitty person I'd become.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess my mind's been elsewhere."

"Well, you need to bring it back here. I don't know what to do."

"One of us could ask him," I suggested.

She scoffed. "It won't help. He'll just get pissed off."

That was probably true, though perhaps with some tact it could still work.

"I'm not sure what else we can do other than wait and see what happens," I said.

B'Elanna sat back and crossed her arms. "You know, I really hoped you'd have a better answer."

"I'm not a magician. I can't fix their marriage, and I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

"No," she snapped, "but the least you could do is pay attention."

That hurt. I clenched my fists as if preparing to defend myself. There were bigger things to worry about than relationship drama. Marital discord and a cranky XO were nothing in comparison to what would happen if the Borg won the war.

Still, I should've put more effort into being present—especially with Chakotay. Once again, I was failing to uphold our agreement. I wasn't looking out for him.

If the roles were reversed, he would've already talked to me.

"You're right," I muttered, relaxing my hands. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." B'Elanna sighed and shook her head. "What happens if they split up?"

I touched the ring on my finger. "They're professionals. They'll uphold their duties no matter how they feel and keep their personal lives out of it."

"You say that like it's easy."

"It isn't. But that's why they're in command. They can make hard choices for the sake of the crew and the mission."

B'Elanna pressed her lips together, looking unconvinced. "I hope you're right."

So did I.

* * *

Watching the captain and Chakotay on the bridge that afternoon, B'Elanna's observations proved to be apt. The easy banter they once shared had been replaced with... nothing. They only spoke when absolutely necessary, which was exactly once in the space of three hours. When beta shift arrived to relieve us of duty, Janeway retired to her ready room and Chakotay strode off the bridge without a word.

What had happened? How long had I been missing the signs?

Over the following two days, I made mental notes of their behavior. The level of conversation between them remained the same, which is to say barely at all. They never touched. Even Janeway, who often communicated with physical gestures, kept her hands to herself. Eye contact was rare, and when it occurred it was short-lived. No emotion seemed to pass between them at all—no love, no anger. Just tolerance. Indifference. They were uncaring coworkers and nothing more.

I also kept an ear open for talk amongst the crew about the issue. No events had been held since the Terran New Year's Eve party, and neither member of our command team socialized much anymore, so the only ones with opportunity to observe Janeway and Chakotay together were senior staff, alpha shift bridge crew, and aides. Somehow, we were all in an unspoken agreement not to discuss the issue. Not even Tom or Harry said anything.

Maybe no one else had noticed, or if they did, they thought nothing of it. Perhaps some were concerned but had chosen to hold their tongues. It was a personal matter, after all—nothing to do with the mission. But B'Elanna brought it to me for a reason, and I wasn't about to fail anyone now.

So when I sat down in Chakotay's office for another evening working on Sisko's task, I broke the silence.

"Something's not right."

Chakotay frowned. "With the research?"

I shook my head. "You haven't been yourself lately—less talkative, less social. And when you're with the captain, you both seem so… frigid."

The expression on his face turned icy, fingers curling into fists. His defenses were going up against this invasion of privacy.

I covered his hand with mine. "Tay, I'm not saying this to drag the truth out of you. It isn't my business, and it would be inappropriate given our history and my role on the ship. I just want you to know that if you need support, you have friends here. You can talk to them. And if there _is_ something I can do—take extra shifts, maybe, give you time to meditate or talk to your animal guide—all you have to do is ask. Whatever's going on, you don't have to carry it alone."

He deflated some, though his voice was still gruff. "You're right. It isn't your business." His hand uncurled just enough to catch my fingers, and his expression relaxed. "But thank you."

"Of course," I said, giving him a squeeze before I let go. "So, where were we?"

* * *

Three more weeks passed by with no sign of _Equinox_. Every so often we'd get updates on the war's progress—a few Borg ships were infiltrated and liberated, Loran's collective again tried and failed to invade Krenim space, more comm nodes were built to connect us to unimatrix zero factions across the galaxy, and Queen Nessav appealed to the Federation for support. Casualty lists were a constant, and no large victories were won. But for now, the Borg were being held at bay.

As for me, life had become a great big routine—counseling sessions in the morning, sensor data reviews in the afternoon, more sessions after alpha shift. I met with the science department heads three times a week, with Captain Janeway, Annika, and the senior staff twice a week, and with Chakotay every Sunday night. Once a week I ran alpha shift on the bridge, and twice a week Harry ran beta shift. On the evenings when Harry worked, I booked time on the holodeck to practice with my _tagh_ and met with Tuvok to hone my mental discipline. Nothing really changed.

And Loran didn't come.

It was getting old—the quiet preparations. Certainly, I didn't want Loran to attack. I dreaded that day, and the dread was exhausting. All I wanted was to get it over with one way or another. If we won, we could go home as heroes. If we lost, at least it was done. Waiting felt like the worst part, and the option of tracking down Loran myself looked more appealing every day.

But what if I left and she found _Voyager_ while I was gone?

"I need to know what she's doing," I told Sisko when I visited him one night. The illusory temple around us held a warm, yellow glow, as did the man before me. "Alixia told me you can't see this future, but can you see what Loran is up to right now?"

"We've never explored the hive mind," he said, his voice deep and calm. "It was risky enough connecting to Annika's consciousness while she was connected to the collective. To make a true study of them would be too dangerous."

I frowned. "How? They already know about you, and they can't assimilate something that isn't physical."

"Assimilate, no. But they can learn. For now, all you need to know is that Loran still has a role to play. Do not go looking for her."

First Alixia, now Sisko. Why didn't they want me to take out our greatest enemy?

"But my _tagh_ has an orb fragment," I said. "Why would you show me that if it isn't important?"

"It _is_ important."

"I know. I can kill Loran with it and stop the Borg."

"You're looking for a simple solution to a complex problem," he said. "It doesn't work like that."

" _Then fucking tell me what the solution is_! You dragged us all out here for this. I've done everything you wanted. Every day, I'm wasting time while dreading a comm saying that Loran has taken another colony or assimilated another species. Maybe you've forgotten what it is to live within the constraints of time, but I can't wait anymore. Tell me what to do."

His eyes narrowed to slits as he prowled towards me. "I remember what it feels like to live in linear time," he growled, "and I know _exactly_ what's at stake here. My first wife died at Wolf 359. I couldn't even bury her because I had to leave her behind. So don't you _dare_ lecture me about losing people to the Borg. But there's only so much I can do. You have to trust me. Continue your search for _Equinox_. Don't let anything distract you from it."

So it was personal, then. Whatever he wanted, it was tainted by the loss of his wife. But why would that make him want to hold back?

"I don't understand," I said. "I have the weapon that could finish the war and you want me to stay away? Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you need to find the answers on your own."

I scoffed. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Oh, I'm quite serious," he said.

Ridiculous. This was utterly ridiculous. Why had I put my faith in any of these people? They may not have been bound by bodies or linear time, but they were still limited and flawed like the rest of us.

I threw up my hands. "Alixia wants us to abandon the war effort. You want us to keep searching for _Equinox_. We've been pushed one way and another ever since you stranded us here in the Delta Quadrant, but you non-corporeals can't even get on the same fucking page about what to do with us!"

"Susperia has her own agenda for dealing with the Borg, and unfortunately she convinced Alixia that her plan is the right one. I disagree."

I crossed my arms. "Tell me why."

"It's not your place to know. Not yet, anyway."

"Then why should we follow your advice instead of Alixia's? Not that it matters, by the way. You both keep bothering me, but I'm not the one who makes decisions around here."

"Captain Janeway has yet to come and speak with me. And why should she when you are the messenger?" He gestured at me. "So _be a messenger._ "

"I don't want to be a messenger," I snarled. "I'm a counselor. You hear that? A _counselor_. That's all I ever wanted to be. But if it's not Section 31 fucking up my life, it's you. I'm sick of it."

"Well, too bad." His volume was rising, anger tensing the muscles in his face as if he were flesh and bone. Finally, he seemed like a real human being. "Unlike Alixia, I'm not willing to sacrifice trillions of lives because of what they may or may not choose to do once they're free. _That_ is why you should listen to my advice instead of hers. If you want to help people, I'm telling you how to do it."

So Alixia wanted the Borg wiped out. Was it for the same reason Jen had given when I questioned her?

"It's a nice idea to give them a second chance at individuality," she'd said, "but not all of them will want it. And even those who do—they're still people. Selfish. Warmongering. With all that knowledge and technology at their fingertips… It doesn't take a genius to see how that'll turn out."

It was a good point, but did Section 31 have any right to make that call for billions of people? Did Susperia?

Sisko's voice hardened into a captainly tone as he stepped even closer to me. "So when the time comes to make a choice between _Equinox_ and a different concern, you _will_ stay on _Equinox's_ trail. You will not deviate from it. And you most certainly will not go looking for Loran yourself. Do you understand?"

Gritting my teeth, I leaned in so close to Sisko's face that I could feel his hot breath on my skin. The sensation was awful, but somehow it fueled my anger. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're not my captain and you're not a prophet. You're just another person scared shitless of the Borg and trying to figure out what to do. I'm done believing in you."

Feeling for the bond that tethered me to Tuvok, I coiled it around my mind and yanked myself out of Sisko's reach. The physical world hit me like a force field, knocking me to the deck. When I opened my eyes, Tuvok was leaning over me.

His eyebrows lifted. "Impressive. Your control over our telepathic bond is improving."

"Thanks," I said, getting to my feet.

"I am, however, sensing a great deal of anger. Perhaps we should discuss your orb exper—"

"Not now," I snapped, shoving the orb's case closed and throwing the rug over it for good measure. "I'd rather be alone."

His response was swallowed up by the sound of the door closing behind me as I stormed away.

* * *

As fate would have it, I was running bridge watch when we picked up the scent.

"Commander, I've got something," Celes announced from ops. "It's a couple days old, but it's definitely them— _Equinox's_ warp signature."

"All stop," I said, jumping to my feet and making my way to the conn. "Tom, confirm?"

"Yep, it's their ion trail alright. Bearing three-ten mark twelve."

And so it was, right there on his console. _Equinox_ had decloaked here only two days ago. Could they really be within reach?

"Captain to the bridge," I called, and a moment later she emerged from the ready room demanding a report. "We've found their trail," I said. "It's two days old, but it's here."

For the first time in weeks, the corners of her mouth lifted into a very slight smile. "Take your station," she ordered, and I did as I was told. "Which way did they go?"

Activating the screen, Celes projected a map and highlighted the trail in yellow for all of us to see. "It's pretty erratic for a while, but then it just… stops."

The yellow lines swirled and swooped in ways that, to anyone else's eye, might have looked chaotic. But any Starfleet pilot, tactical officer, or commander could have recognized it.

"Evasive maneuvers," Tom said.

"They fought someone here," I added.

"Can you identify the other ship's warp trail?" Janeway asked.

I pulled up the main sensor array on my console, but Celes answered first. "No, ma'am. I'm not detecting a second warp trail."

My eyes caught on something else. "There's some debris from _Equinox_ floating around. Not much, so they definitely weren't destroyed. But they might be damaged."

"Anything from the other ship?" Janeway asked.

"No."

"Are there any star systems or—"

An alert cut her off.

"Captain," Celes said, "we're getting an urgent message from Sinoso. The planet is under attack."

My stomach dropped. No. It couldn't be true. They were safe. Sinoso was supposed to be safe.

The news barely had time to sink in before Celes' console chirped. " _Gik'tal_ is hailing."

"On screen," Janeway said.

"Captain Janeway," Korok greeted tersely, "I assume you have received the distress signal." He only waited for the barest hint of Janeway's confirmation before continuing. "We must return and lend aid at once. Is your vessel prepared for transwarp?"

Janeway looked to Tom, who glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "We're ready, General," she said.

"Captain," I protested, though it was more of a reflex than a conscious choice. The word was quiet, fading to nearly nothing on the second syllable.

"Good," Korok said. "We will be departing shortly. _Gik'tal_ out."

After the comm cut, Janeway turned to me. "Did you have something to add, Commander?"

Sisko's voice played in my head. "Continue your search for _Equinox_. Don't let anything distract you from it."

But I couldn't make the words form on my lips. Sinoso was under attack. Sam, Naomi… Grischa, Tony, and Asher… the children we'd rescued from the sphere…

Our crew and our allies. We had to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Burke and his people could handle themselves for a little while longer. They still had their cloak.

Besides, what choice did we have? Korok expected us to abide by his decision. Everyone did. It was our duty to respond to a distress call from our forces—to protect our fellow soldiers. We owed it to them. Even Captain Janeway didn't question this. If I repeated Sisko's words, would she listen?

 _Be a messenger_.

Her gaze was expectant. Impatient.

I shook my head.

" _G_ _ik'tal_ has gone to warp," Tom reported. "They're preparing for the jump to transwarp."

"Match course and speed, Mister Paris," Janeway said as she marched to her chair and sat. "Engage."


	24. Farewell

**Farewell**

 _CW: Borg-related horror, destruction, and violence against characters and children_

* * *

By the time we reached Sinoso, there was nothing left intact. Countless ships floated aimlessly around us—broken, snapped in half, shot through with scorched-black holes, dead in space. The massive station that once looked down on the beautiful, blue planet was little more than a debris field. Shards of what used to be satellites sliced through the thermosphere and exosphere, still following their orbit.

Surely we hadn't been the first of the alliance forces to arrive in response to the distress call, but it was hard to tell how many ships were out there when they were all in pieces. The casualties here alone had to be in the tens of thousands.

"I'm not detecting any lifesigns," I said, my voice stumbling over the words. "Not up here… or on the planet." It seemed wrong, like maybe the sensors were malfunctioning and everyone we'd left behind was fine.

But when I rechecked my readings a fourth, fifth, and sixth time, they were unchanged. No one was on or around Sinoso—not anymore.

Chakotay made his way across the dais, stopping just behind the place where Janeway stood staring at the viewscreen. "Weapon signatures?" he asked.

"Two," Tuvok said. "Zahl and Borg."

"Any sign of Borg ships in the area?"

"None," I replied.

"Alliance ships?"

"Just us and _Gik'tal_."

"There will no doubt be more alliance vessels on the way," Tuvok said.

Not that it mattered.

For a moment, no one else spoke. Sinoso hadn't been the most heavily populated Zahl planet, but it wasn't minor, either—especially after it became a base of operations for Unity forces. Twenty-eight million people had lived there.

Twenty-eight _million_.

Beyond that, eleven of our own crew had been there. Korok, too, sent a number of people from _Gik'tal_ for safekeeping, including First, Fourth, and Fifth. Between our two ships, we'd lost forty-six people. Children and families, all of them.

"Chakotay," Janeway said, the anger in her tone unmistakable, "take an away team to the surface. I want to make absolutely sure no one is down there, and I want to know what the hell happened."

Chakotay gave a curt nod and turned. "Tuvok, Talia."

Securing my station, I stood and followed him to the turbolift. My eyes met Harry's as I passed by ops. There was no fear in his face, nor shock, just a grim expression to convey all the things he must have been feeling inside.

He gave a single, solemn nod.

I returned the gesture, then stepped into the turbolift.

* * *

On the planet, Chakotay, Tuvok, and I were joined by Schmullis, Mike, and Annika. Korok lead a team of seven Unimatrix Zero troops to help us make a preliminary assessment. When our reports were written and sent to the alliance leaders, they'd no doubt assign a few fleets to do more in-depth surveys.

For now, though, it was just us.

A gentle breeze blew, cool against my skin. Apart from the wind, everything was eerily quiet. The whole neighborhood seemed like a ghost town. From the spot where we'd beamed down, nothing looked out of place. No shattered windows, no burning buildings, no signs of battle at all. It was as if everyone had just abandoned the place all at once.

Eager to check the row houses where our families had lived, we opted to split up, with Korok taking his team after their people while we looked for ours. Chakotay took Mike and Schmullis to investigate two of our crew's homes. Tuvok, Annika, and I took the other three.

Grischa and Tony's home came first, and I nearly asked Tuvok if we could give this one to Chakotay's team instead. The door opened to reveal a space that could have looked normal were it not for the attack.

The clutter was minimal. Most of Asher's toys were contained to his play pen, the kitchen table had nothing but two Zahl tablets laying on it, and all the drawers and cabinets were closed.

The peacefulness made me uneasy, and I had to fight the urge to run. Flipping open my tricorder, I set the device for a bioscan and slowly made my way around the place.

I was so busy dreading the prospect of finding a body that I didn't notice the toy until I stepped on it—a bright blue and yellow butterfly. Suddenly, all I could think about was Asher's soft baby hands exploring my face and my fingers pressed into the dirt on Rojel's grave. It made me feel sick.

Slowly, I put my tricorder away and knelt to pick up the toy. How had this happened? What horrible chain of events had brought me to this moment, and how could I undo it? The butterfly rattled quietly in my trembling fingers.

A hand gripped my shoulder. I jumped to my feet and spun away, reaching for my phaser.

But it was only Tuvok. "Commander, what did you find?"

"Nothing," I choked out, my hand falling away from the weapon on my belt. "One of Asher's toys. I, uh… he was playing with it the last day I saw him. I'm sorry." My voice broke over the last words. I cleared my throat. "I'll pull it together, sir."

He gave a slight nod. "Have you found anything else of interest?"

I set the toy on a nearby dresser. "Nothing yet. No signs of life, no bodies or blood, and no other biological substances or readings of importance. Honestly, from the looks of the place, they could just as easily be at the market as in Borg custody."

His eyebrow twitched. "Indeed. I have found no indications of a struggle as one would expect. It is… perplexing."

"I suggest we proceed to the next residence," Annika said, stowing her tricorder as she strode towards us.

Tuvok and I agreed.

Icheb's house was more of the same—perfect, pristine, and empty of life. Unlike Grischa and Tony's home, however, it gave me the slightest bit of hope.

"This might work in our favor," I said, glancing from Tuvok to Annika. "The Borg never adapted to Icheb's virus. The collective cut off the children's sphere before it reached them. If they assimilated Icheb, whatever ship they're on is probably free now. They might even be close by."

Annika gave a slight shake of her head. "It is more likely they abducted him in order to study his genetic modifications. It will not take them long to find a way to adapt."

Tuvok raised a brow. "All evidence we have indicates that the Borg learn through assimilation, not study. What leads you to believe they have changed their methods?"

"Loran is not like other Borg. This is her doing."

My gut tightened. "You think she was here?"

Annika eyed the room. "Perhaps, although it is more probable she sent drones to retrieve him for her." She pressed her lips together. "There is nothing here. We should move on."

In the Wildman's home, two of the dining room chairs lay on the floor, but nothing else was out of place. Reports from Chakotay and Korok revealed similar findings. It was as if no one had even gotten the chance to react.

They'd just been whisked away.

When we left the complex to explore other neighborhoods, however, it was a very different story. Doors were broken, bent out of shape, or simply ripped from their frames. Furniture, computer consoles, and other personal items were strewn everywhere. Closets had been locked and then forced open. Black marks from phaser fire singed the walls inside and out. A few bodies lay where they had died defending themselves and their families.

Unlike our people, they'd had time to panic, barricade themselves, or fight back. In the end, though, it hadn't mattered.

 _Resistance is futile._

"I believe the individuals from our two crews were specifically targeted by the Borg for assimilation," Annika said when we regrouped in the street.

"Why would they do that?" Chakotay asked.

"I don't know, but that is what the evidence indicates. The Borg must have transported directly into their homes to capture them first, then moved out from there to assimilate the rest of the settlement." Her blue-green eyes swept across the sky. "What I do not understand is how they were able to do so without alerting anyone to their presence when they entered the system."

"We can answer those questions later," Korok said. "First we must find a better way to scan the colony for survivors. If the Borg's primary target was our comrades, perhaps some of the others were left behind."

I frowned. "Survivors? I scanned the surface for lifesigns several times from _Voyager_. If anyone was down here, it would have shown up."

"Not if they erected dampening fields or took shelter in a structure that masks their lifesigns. It is possible some may still be here."

If nothing else, it was our duty to check.

"The main planetary sensor array will tell us what we need to know," Korok continued. "We can use _Gik'tal_ and _Voyager_ in place of the Zahl satellites to transmit the signal and triangulate anomalous readings." He turned to me. "How familiar are you with Zahl technology?"

"Don't ask me how to fix anything," I said, "but if their sensor arrays are operational, I can work them."

Annika nodded down the street. "We should proceed." The way she held her shoulders as she marched forward told me she was just as uncomfortable as I was.

This place was getting to her, too.

Eventually, the neighborhoods gave way to a line of one-story buildings. It was mostly restaurants meant to serve visitors and servicemen who wanted something other than the usual mess hall fare. There was also a tea shop and a store where people could get basic necessities and souvenirs.

On the other side of the road stood the embassy and visitor's center, only a few stories high but beautiful with off-white pillars and matching stone walls. Like everything else, it was marred by phaser fire and left open, wind whispering through the barren entryway.

Ahead of us was an impressively large grassy courtyard surrounded by tall buildings—a park sprinkled with trees, benches, sculptures, and a play area for kids. At the center of the park stood a large stone pavilion supported by eight columns. It was a memorial commemorating the Krenim revolution and all those who died to end Annorax's tyranny.

Beyond the park, just across from us, rose one building that towered above all the rest. The administrative building. Next to it was the base's science building where the planet's primary sensor array was controlled.

Chakotay stopped so suddenly I nearly ran into him. "Is that… a person?"

"Where?" Mike asked.

"Past the memorial," Annika said, pointing to the right of the pavilion.

Shielding my eyes, I stepped forward and gazed in the direction Annika indicated. Sure enough, there was one lone figure seated on a bench beneath a tree. They were facing away from us, unmoving in the shadow cast by the mid-day sun.

"Comrade!" Korok's voice boomed, echoing through the courtyard. "Do not panic. I am General Korok of the Unity Alliance. We are here to assist you."

The person didn't respond—didn't even flinch.

Schmullis took out his tricorder and set off towards them, medkit dangling from a strap on his shoulder.

"Doctor," Tuvok called after him, and Schmullis paused to look back. "I suggest we exercise caution in this instance."

"If they're alive," Schmullis said, "they might need help."

With a grunt, Korok marched after Schmullis and the rest of us followed. As we neared, I could make out cropped black hair, gray skin, and broad shoulders. I'd never seen Zahl with such a complexion, meaning they were probably from Unimatrix Zero, but my tricorder still couldn't identify anything about the person's biology. It didn't even recognize they were there.

"I think there's a dampening field around the park," I murmured to Chakotay.

"Why would they erect one here?" he asked. "There's nowhere to hide."

"I don't know."

When Schmullis reached the survivor, his eyes went wide. "First!"

"Dr. Schmullis," the young former drone replied, and got to his feet. Moving past Schmullis, he rounded the bench to face the rest of us.

Korok stepped forward. "Are you damaged?"

"No."

"How did you evade the Borg?" Tuvok asked.

"We didn't," First said, and touched an implant on his wrist. Green light shimmered on either side of him accompanied by the hum of a transporter beam. More than a dozen drones materialized, though I wasn't exactly counting. At the center, just beside First, stood their queen.

Loran.

"It's them," Mike breathed.

Chakotay threw his arms out wide, pushing all of us back. Instinctively, I reached for my phaser, but stopped just as my fingers brushed the smooth, metallic surface.

Sliding my hand under my jacket, I pulled out my knife instead.

Nobody moved—not the drones, and not the teams. This was my chance. I flipped the blade and whipped it at Loran, milliseconds stretching into eternity as my _tagh_ turned end over end, slicing through the air towards its mark.

It sank to the hilt in her throat.

Her eyes widened, mouth gaping as she staggered and collapsed on the ground. First and the rest of the drones did the same. For an awful moment, they all gagged and convulsed in the grass. Then, finally, they went still.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. All my energy had been focused on this one goal, and there she was lying dead in the grass. I'd killed Loran just like I was supposed to. But it seemed unreal, and the vague sense of accomplishment I felt was mixed with dread.

"What have you done?" Schmullis asked, hurrying over to one of the drones.

"My duty," I spat, though deep down I was horrified. What _had_ I done? The others should have been liberated, not killed. Striding over to Loran's side, I knelt down to look into her dead, silver eyes.

Eyes that shifted to meet mine when my shadow reached her face.

I fell backwards with a gasp, catching myself on my hands. It was the knife. Drones could survive much longer than humans without oxygen, and clearly the blade hadn't been long enough to sever the nerves in her spinal cord like I'd hoped. I needed to pull it out. Finish the job.

My hand was closing around the hilt when Loran smiled, teeth stained red as blood spilled from her mouth.

"Did you really think death could stop me?" the drones around her said in unison.

I glanced at First, whose dark eyes were blank of emotion but fixed on me.

"Hasn't that Terran engineer of yours told you what we did for her? Death is not an obstacle for us. We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

First's hand shot up, curling around my neck and cutting off my air as he crawled over the queen's body towards me. Suddenly, he wasn't wasn't the adolescent boy we'd rescued in the blue nebula, but a soldier at Korma outpost laughing at my failed attempt to take him out, whose brother-in-arms tortured me nearly to death, whose government wiped out the Maquis. He was the enemy responsible for unspeakable crimes against my mother's people. _My_ people.

And now he was responsible for the loss of everyone we left on Sinoso.

Yanking my knife from Loran's throat, I buried it in First's eye. Then in his neck. When he fell, I straddled him and thrust the blade into his chest over and over, deep in that ugly Cardassian heart. I was screaming so loud, my vision so tunneled, that I didn't notice the other drones rising to their feet or hear the fighting begin all around me until someone grabbed my pony tail and forced me upright. My attacker yanked my head to the side, exposing my neck.

Then the pain was gone, the grip released, and a drone hit the ground face-down beside me. My eyes tracked upward, a shadow towering over me, and found Schmullis standing there with a smirk on his face and a hypospray in his hand.

"Resisting a good sedative is futile," he quipped, and helped me to my feet.

"You need to go," I panted. "If they get your mobile emitter—"

"They've adapted!" Mike shouted from somewhere I couldn't see.

"Fall back!" Korok ordered.

Schmullis returned the hypospray to his medkit and snapped the case shut. "We all need to go."

"Move," I ordered. "I'm right behind you."

"Aye sir." He turned and jogged away.

Just as I pivoted to check for enemies behind us, another drone slammed his palm into my chest, knocking me on the ground and forcing the air from my lungs. Somehow I managed to hold onto my knife, which I raised towards my attacker, ready to strike.

A phaser blast caught him in the middle of his chest, but a green force field shimmered around his exoplating, absorbing the energy. His face tilted down, one gray eye meeting mine. That's when I saw it.

The drone was Maxwell Burke.

My elbows fell to the ground, all desire to fight draining away. It made no sense. How was he here? I dug my heels into the dirt and scrambled backwards. "Burke?"

No emotion or sign of recognition crossed his features. Thick, metal-plated feet stomped heavily on the ground after me, menacing despite not being in any particular hurry. Drones never hurried. They didn't need to. They always got what they wanted in the end.

 _Resistance is futile._

" _MAX!_ " I screamed, but he just kept coming, his long stride covering more ground than I could crawl. Fighting hand-to-hand with a Borg would get me nowhere. He was too strong. I was going to have to kill him.

And I had to do it quickly.

A uniformed man entered my field of vision, thrusting the heel of his hand up into Burke's nose with a loud _crunch_. Burke staggered back a step, then took an uppercut to his unprotected jaw that snapped his head back. Just as he regained his composure, the butt of a phaser smashed into his temple with so much force it sent him sprawling on the ground.

Chakotay whipped around, grabbed my arms so tight it hurt, and dragged me to my feet. "Let's go!"

He didn't need to tell me twice. Together we sprinted back towards our team, zig-zagging to avoid the Borg disruptor blasts hitting trees and structures around us. Mike and Tuvok had formed a line with Korok's crew, providing cover as Annika and Schmullis ran in the direction we'd come from, tricorders in hand.

"They're finding the edge of the dampening field," Chakotay explained as we joined the line. "They can call _Voyager_ for a beam-out there. You need to go with them. When you're safe, we'll head that way, too."

"What?" My stomach squeezed. "No! I'm not leaving you behind! I won't break that promise again."

His eyes grew sad. "I thought you might say that." He glanced down at the phaser in his hand. "I'm sorry."

I barely had time to open my mouth in protest when he shot me.

The next thing I knew, Tuvok was carrying me away from the battle. My body jostled as he ran, head still swimming from the stun. The phaser burn on my stomach stung, my charred uniform scraping over it with each step. Soon, we had joined Annika and Schmullis in front of the embassy.

"What happened?" Schmullis asked.

"Now is not the time," Tuvok replied. He set me carefully on my feet but held onto my arm, his grip like a vice. He tapped his combadge. "Tuvok to _Voyager._ "

Janeway's voice answered. " _Voyager_ here. We're under attack by the Borg. What's going on down there?"

"We have also engaged the Borg. We require an emergency transport. Beam us directly to the bridge."

"I'm only reading four lifesigns," Harry said over the comm.

"That is correct."

"Do it," Janeway snapped.

Across the courtyard, Chakotay shouted. Turning in Tuvok's hold, I looked back at the battle, all of my rage having transformed into agony and fear. Just as the transporter beam enveloped us, a drone brought its fist to Chakotay's neck. He convulsed, fell to his knees, and let out a guttural cry.

Then Sinoso slipped away, the bridge taking shape around us instead.

Janeway stood in the middle of the dais, hands on her hips as the battle played out in front of her on the screen. Her eyes swept over what was left of our team, realization turning to shock, pain, and finally rage. "Raise shields," she barked, spinning on a heel and dropping into her chair. "Come about. Target—"

"Captain," Harry said, a note of terror in his voice. "Thirty Borg drones have materialized on decks twelve, eight, and four."

Janeway opened the console beside her seat. "Seal off main engineering and deck one. Encrypt the main computer. Target _Equinox's_ weapons systems and fire."

 _Equinox?_

"Direct hit," came a woman's voice—Lieutenant Clarke, a Terran tactical officer who was the same age as me. The blinking red alert lights turned her blonde bun and fair skin crimson. "No damage."

Tuvok's hold released. I dragged my eyes to the screen and found our fellow Federation ship covered in Borg technology. The nacelles still glowed blue, but everything else emitted an emerald green light—including the phaser that slammed into our hull.

 _Voyager_ gave a bone-rattling jolt, sending me crashing to the deck and waking up all of my dulled senses at once. Pain seared through my abdomen, making me cry out. The hilt of my knife pressed into my ribs, the blade secure in its sheath. Chakotay must have done that before he ordered Tuvok to…

I shook my head before the thought could go any further.

"Hull breach on deck seven!" Harry shouted. "The Borg are tapping into our secondary systems. They're trying to take control of the ship."

"Stop them!" Janeway snapped as Tuvok headed for tactical and Annika went to the secondary ops console behind the command chairs.

"I'm trying, but they're using Borg encryption algorithms to lock me out."

Scrambling to my feet, I shouldered my way past Schmullis and took my seat at science, logging into the station and accessing secondary systems. Annika, too, was in the computer helping to hold off the digital invasion.

There was blood on my hands, dying my skin red.

I tagged my combadge. "Eelo to Ghemor."

"I'm a little busy right now, Eelo," Iliana griped in reply.

The ship shook again. This time it was Lieutenant Clarke who gave the damage report. Janeway demanded more fire, and it still did nothing.

"Stop whatever you're doing and tap into the secondary systems," I ordered Iliana. "We've got Borg trying to hack their way in, so we're gonna blue-nebula these assholes."

The grin in her voice was unmistakable. "Excellent." A few seconds passed before she said, "I'm in."

"Okay just hang on a little bit…" I said as I connected a linguistic program to the secondary systems, automatically translating the Borg language and codes into Standard. When the computer began to recognize commands the drones were feeding into our systems, it was able to fight back.

Still, it wouldn't hold them off for long.

"Alright, Iliana," I said. "Translation algorithm is in place. Your turn."

"My pleasure."

On my console, several different Borg decryption protocols entered the system, further weakening the drones' work. More importantly, it distracted them while Iliana set up the other part of her plan—a feedback pulse like the one she'd used on Mezoti in the blue nebula... except much stronger.

"Initiating pulse… now."

The attack on our secondary systems stopped at once.

"Better?" Iliana asked.

"Perfect," I said. It wouldn't keep them out for good, but it bought us time. "Carry on. Eelo out."

A crimson notification overtook my display counting down from ten minutes.

"What the hell?" Janeway growled.

"Captain," Harry said, "someone just activated the self-destruct sequence."

"I can see that, Lieutenant." She tapped furiously on her console. "The question is, how?"

"I don't know."

"Why would the Borg want to destroy _Voyager_?" Tom asked. "Their own people are here trying to assimilate it."

"The Borg have not regained access to secondary systems," Annika said. "They are not the ones responsible."

Janeway stood and marched towards ops. "Then who the hell authorized it?"

"There's a code attached to the command, but I don't recognize it," Harry said. "The code has a Federation signature, but it doesn't belong to any of the crew."

I pulled up the command on my own console just as the captain reached ops. Harry was wrong. It _did_ belong to one of the crew—one who should not have access to any systems.

"Goddamnit," Janeway swore under her breath.

"Captain?" Harry asked.

But she wouldn't tell him. She couldn't. It was a Section 31 code. Jen's code. There was no way for anyone to stop it—not even the Borg. It overrode everything, just like Section 31 intended.

Jen was going to destroy _Voyager_ rather than let it fall to the Borg.

"Contact _Gik'tal_ ," Janeway ordered Harry. "Tell them the Borg have taken _Voyager_ and we have initiated a self-destruct. We can't drop shields, so we're taking the escape pods."

The words hit me like a punch in the gut. We were leaving _Voyager_. For good.

"All hands," Janeway said in a loud, clear voice, "this is the captain. We are abandoning ship. Secure your stations and proceed to the escape pods immediately." She marched to the conn and tapped Tom's shoulder. "You're relieved, Lieutenant. Take Clarke and Hansen, and transport yourselves onto _Tereshkova_. Protect the pods and make sure everyone gets onto _Gik'tal_ safely." She turned to tactical. "Tuvok, I want you, Talia, Harry, and Schmullis on the _Flyer._ "

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'm the captain," she said gravely, her eyes returning to the screen. "I go down with the ship."

"That is not Starfleet protocol," Tuvok said.

"Actually," Harry said, "it's _against_ protocol. A commanding officer's first duty is to their crew, especially in times of emergency."

"Don't tell me about my duty, Lieutenant," Janeway snarled. "Someone needs to stay on _Voyager_ to help cover those pods. You all have your orders and I expect you to carry them out." She turned back to the conn. "Mister Paris?"

He crossed his arms and sat back, a silent challenge in his expression. I could almost hear him say it out loud. _You'll have to make me._

"Mister Paris, you are in violation of a direct order. Take your team and evacuate the ship."

He shook his head. "I can't follow that order, Captain."

"None of us will," I said, standing and crossing my own arms, as well. "Either you come with us, or we're all staying."

It was Arturis' transwarp flight all over again—or so I'd been told. Captain Janeway seemed to have developed a death wish, but this crew wasn't about to let her see it through. We needed her, and she needed us.

Clarke crossed the dais and strode towards Janeway. "Captain, I'll do it. I can run every station on the bridge. I'll keep the pods safe."

"Lieutenant—"

"With all due respect, ma'am, the crew needs its captain now more than ever."

For a moment, the two women stared at each other. No doubt Janeway was giving Clarke her most withering look, but the other woman didn't back down.

Finally, Janeway relented. She put a hand on Clarke's shoulder. "It's been an honor serving with you, Lieutenant."

Clarke nodded. "And you, Captain."

Satisfied, Tom vacated his post so Clarke could take over, clapping her on the shoulder before taking his place beside Janeway. "So," he drawled. " _Tereshkova_?"

Janeway pressed her lips together, her expression still one of tamped-down anger. "Let's do it."

"Alright," Harry said, "I've got a site-to-site transport set up. The signal is encrypted, so the Borg shouldn't be able to piggyback on it."

"Energize," Janeway said, and they disappeared with Annika in blue beams of light.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it refused to come. My eyes slid over every feature of the bridge—the engineering station where B'Elanna, Iliana, and Marla had worked, Janeway's ready room, Tuvok at tactical, the command chairs where Janeway and Chakotay had sat side-by-side for five years, Harry at ops, my own science station, and finally the conn where Tom had gotten his life back.

Tears needled at my eyes as Clarke took control of every bridge station at the conn. When I called to her, she looked up.

"Good luck," was all I could think to say.

"You, too," was all she said back.

"Second transport is ready," Harry said.

"Energize," Tuvok ordered, and a moment later we were standing in the _Delta Flyer._

Without a word, we headed for our respective stations. My fingers had just landed on the flight control panel when I gasped. "The orb!"

"Way ahead of you," Harry said. I swiveled around to find him working furiously at his station. "The Borg just entered Tuvok's quarters. Looks like they haven't gotten it yet. I'm trying to get a lock, but it's tricky. It's not reading as a lifesign, but it isn't reading like an object either."

"We have three minutes and thirty-seven seconds to warp core breach," Tuvok said. "If you cannot transport the orb, then you must abort."

"Hold on… I think I have it…"

The hum and blue glow of a transporter beam filled the cabin, followed by Schmullis gasping out, "What on Earth...?"

And there he was—not the orb, but Captain Sisko in a gray-shouldered uniform standing next to Schmullis at the science station behind Harry.

His brown eyes locked on me, and he raised his eyebrows. "You'd better go, Commander."

My mouth was open. Shaking my head, I snapped it shut and returned to my controls. "Engines?"

"Ready," Harry answered.

"Then let's get the hell out of here," I said, and lifted off from the deck.

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Where's _Baxial_? I'm not detecting it in here or outside."

"We do not have time to concern ourselves with that, Lieutenant," Tuvok said. "Commander Eelo, please proceed as ordered."

"Aye, sir."

With that, we shot forward, following _Tereshkova_ and a hoard of escape pods into space. At our departure, _Voyager_ moved away, taking a protective position to provide cover as _Gik'tal_ tractored our people inside. Harry grabbed a few of the stragglers with our tractor beam and I flew us a safe distance away from the ship that had been our home for five years in the Delta Quadrant.

Just as I came about beside _Tereshkova_ , ready to defend our pods, I realized that _Voyager_ was still moving towards _Equinox_ and had gained speed. Clarke was going to ram them.

"I'm reading an overload in _Equinox's_ warp core," Harry said.

I frowned. "What? How can that be? Our weapons were basically useless against them."

"It is not due to damage from the battle," Tuvok said. "I believe a self-destruct sequence is in progress on their vessel, as well."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would they—"

Just as the timer for _Voyager_ ran out, the bow collided with _Equinox's_ stardrive section. A massive explosion engulfed them both in a ball of flames, burning up the escaping oxygen and sending pieces of bulkheads speeding out in every direction.

Just like that, it was over.

They were gone. _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ were both gone. We were homeless, trapped in the Delta Quadrant without a ship to carry us, stuck in a war we'd started without any way to fight it. Our mission to find _Equinox_ before the Borg did had failed, and so had my mission to kill Loran. Jen was right.

We had already lost.


End file.
